Spy Trouble
by Aingeal Logan
Summary: He's back! The other Gilligan returns to complete the mission he didnt finish on his last visit. When Gilligan finds him again, will his fellow castaways believe him?
1. He Returns

_**I do not own Gilligan, the Skipper, the Millionaire, or his wife, the Movie Star, the Professor or Mary Ann, or the show at all whatsoever. They belong to Sherwood Schwartz.**_

_**Thanks to emmadactryl for beta-reading! :)**_

**He Returns**

The wind blew a cool breeze across a peaceful lagoon, slightly disturbing its waters, a lush tropical rain forest reflected on crystal blue liquid. The soft rustle of wind running her fingers through the palm fronds was the only sound that could be heard until the deep roar of a motor sliced through the quiet.

A boat appeared in the lagoon, moving smoothly into the sheltered waters from the sea beyond. Captaining the small vessel was a boy clad in a red polo shirt and pale jeans, his short brown hair covered by a sailor's cap. The boy looked around the age of twenty five, and his ice blue eyes twinkled sinisterly in the sunlight.

Keeping his eyes on the beach, the boy made sure no one was watching him as he tried to manoeuvre his ship until it was concealed by the foliage overhanging the water. He looked around once more before climbing out of the boat and tying it to the nearby trunk of a fallen palm tree. When he had made absolutely sure no one was around, he headed further into the jungle, traveling along a path he had discovered on his last visit.

After a few minutes of walking through the lush scenery, he finally came to a small opening in the side of a hill. _Everything vill go right this time!_ he thought as he squeezed into the tiny opening. The inside of the cave was much larger, big enough for five people to stand a foot apart, though it was very dark and damp. The boy felt his way to the back of the cavern, and sat down with his knees close to his chest. _The Commandant vill be pleased to hear that I made it vithout being discovered_, he thought while carefully pulling out a shiny gold object. It was a pocket knife, one with many different attachments. There was a loud whining noise as he flipped the spoon and fork out of their case, making him cover his ears as the noise echoed off the dirty walls.

Once the noise had stopped bouncing back at him, the boy uncovered his ears and began to speak into the spoon. His voice was deep, unlike what you would expect, and a light Russian accent coated his voice.

"Agent 222 reporting. Operation 25734-"

"_Enough!_" a voice boomed from the pocket knife, deeper than that of the agent, and with a thicker accent. It, too, echoed off the cave walls. "Just do better dan last time."

"Da, Commandant," The agent replied, trying to avoid the Commandant's anger. "I shall do better."

"You better do better," purred the Commandant with a sinister tone, making the spy shudder. "You know de punishment for failing twice."

Agent 222 thought about the next punishment for his failure and began to shiver from fear.

"Da, Commandant," he replied wearily. "I shall get the information and report back to you in seventy-two hours. You have nothing to vorry about, Commandant."

"Dats right, I don't have anything to vorry about." he purred in his gravelly voice. "But you do! Ve vill pick you up in seventy-two hours! Signing off."

The spy saluted his leader, though he wasn't around to see it. As soon as he was sure the Commandant had truly signed off, he asked, "You still there?" When he got no reply, he shouted, "Phooey on you!" which echoed repeatedly, and angrily folded his pocket knife back into place, nearly breaking off the attachments in the process.

222 peeked his cap covered head out of the cave entrance. Once again, he decided to take in the relaxing sounds of nature while he still could. The peaceful forest made him forget his anger at the Commandant.

"I vill not fail you, Commandant!" he told himself as he walked down the path.

Soon he came to a clearing where four huts, each a few yards apart from each other, were standing. A single long table that could seat eight people sat dead center of the area. The place was deserted, the inhabitants out completing new tasks and fulfilling daily activities.

Agent 222 smiled to himself. "Look out, 'castavays'," he whispered. "I have returned."

* * *

Please review! I changed the point of view. It seemed to have a bad effect on a few people! ^^' Anyway, please tell me what you think!

Aingeal Logan


	2. The Discovery

**The Discovery**

The clearing was almost silent; the only sounds Gilligan could hear were those of the island birds and the trickling of the stream that flowed at his feet. He sat alone, on a mound of earth, peeling a ripe yellow banana.

So focused on his task, Gilligan didn't hear a man walk up behind him, and, when the man put his hand on Gilligan's shoulder, the boy jumped up off the earth mound, the banana flying out of his hand. He turned to see who it was, and behind him stood a big man in a sleeveless blue rugby shirt and khaki jeans with blue shoes to match. The banana had flown up and landed on the navy blue cap covering his white hair. The man had a look of utter annoyance on his face.

"Oh! It's you, Skipper!" Gilligan exclaimed breathlessly.

"Of course it's me, Gilligan!" the Skipper shouted angrily, pulling the half peeled banana off of his hat and throwing it to the ground.

"Well, sorry, Skipper," Gilligan apologized, both hurt and afraid by Skipper's rage.

"Just go get some coconuts!" the Skipper ordered, pointing a finger out into the jungle. "But I already-" Gilligan started, only to see the look on the Skipper's face. "Was going to get the coconuts!" he finished nervously, slowly walking away, then breaking into a run as he got to the edge of the forest.

He only ran a few feet before he realized something. The Skipper let out a long sigh of exasperation as he saw Gilligan's white cap and red shirt running back to him.

"How many do you want, Skipper?" Gilligan asked, panting.

"Just go!" The Skipper bellowed, and Gilligan was quick to listen.

As he ran through the foliage, Gilligan began to get the strange notion that he was being followed. He stopped and listened, but heard nothing, though this did little to alleviate his anxiety. Slowing to a walk, Gilligan continued on his way.

Gilligan looked around, searching the forest floor for coconuts as well as whatever he thought was tailing him. Before he knew it, he had collected nine coconuts in his arms and was heading back.

As he was walking, his pale pants leg got snagged on something, and he fell with a _thud_ onto the sandy ground. All the coconuts he had collected flew in every direction. Dazed, Gilligan got up, his face covered in earth. Wearily, he turned around so that he could see what was caught on his jeans, his eyes widening as he saw the shiny gold fork, partly covered by a large bush. Bending over, Gilligan pulled it from the fabric of his pants. When it was free, he found that when he pulled it, it pulled back! _Must be caught_, Gilligan thought, giving the utensil one more tug.

The fork flew out of the bush along with the one who was holding it. Gilligan could only stare at the man who lay before him on the ground. As the man picked himself up, Gilligan's suspicions were confirmed.

The man who Gilligan had found was his double.

* * *

Agent 222 stared back at the one who he was imitating. The boy's face showed much confusion, as if he didn't think any other spies would come to the forsaken island. "Vhat is your mission?" 222 asked in his deep, Russian voice.

"Mission?" Gilligan asked. "What mission?"

The spy rolled his eyes at the, what he believed to be, fake innocence. "Like you do not know, _da_?"

Gilligan stared blankly for a moment, then asked, "What does _da_ mean?"

222 let out a long sigh, then proceeded to asked again: "Vhat is your mission on this island?" _He is idiot, so he vill answer_, he thought. _Now I can have mission completed, and get promotion!_

Instead, Gilligan answered, "We don't have a mission! We're shipwrecked!"

To this, 222 let out a "_Ha!_"

"Well it's true!" the boy persisted.

"Look, if you don't give me answer, I get angry," 222 explained almost matter-of-factly. "Vhen I get angry, I feel like I am vanting to kill someone."

Gilligan's eyes widened in fear and he began to back away from his double.

"There is no mission!" he cried as he fled into the jungle. "There is no mission! There is no mission!" he repeated until he was out of hearing range.

222 shrugged, put his pocket knife next to his mouth and began to talk.

"You heard?" he asked.

"I heard_,_" came the disapproving voice of the Commandant.

"I know, I know!" the agent whined, "I do horrible!"

"I agree_,_" the Commandant purred. "You do tings de stupid way! You need to do better, not fail miserably."

"_Da_, Commandant. You have to admit, that vas a good try, no_?_" asked 222 hopefully. "No!" boomed the Commandant. "Dat was terrible try! Vhen you take Gilligan's place, actually act like him dis time."

"_Da_, Commandant." 222 grinned. "I shall take his place."

"Good_,_" the Commandant murmured.

After a long pause, 222 asked, "Vhat if my new pocket knife does not vork?"

What sounded like static to the agent was the Commandant sighing in exasperation.

"You have laser-beam?" he asked.

"Check!" 222 confirmed.

"Tape recorder?"

"Check!"

"Death-ray?"

"Check!" Agent 222 felt pleased with himself. He hadn't broken anything on his new knife!

"Most spies vould be just fine if dose vorked_,_" the Commandant commented, "But you are not most spies. Take Gilligan's place and get de information! Signing off."

Agent 222 stuck his tongue out at the transmitter spoon as if the Commandant could see him before slamming the knife shut.

"I should have listened to my mother," he told himself as he returned his knife to his back pocket. "I'd be a doctor now, or maybe practitioner or veterinarian." He looked to where Gilligan had run off frantically into the jungle, then turned the opposite way. "I'll get the information after lunch," he decided as he raced off into the forest.

* * *

The last thing the Skipper heard before he hit the ground was Gilligan's high pitched yell- "There is no mission! There is no mission!"- before he found his face full of sand with Gilligan on top of him.

"There is no mission..."

"Gilligan!" the Skipper yelled, furious. "Get off me!"

Flustered, Gilligan quickly jumped to his feet and helped the Skipper up, who was still spitting out sand.

When he was standing, the Skipper grabbed at his hat, but then relaxed when he saw the terrified expression on his little buddy's face.

"What happened, Skipper?" the Professor shouted as he came running up into the clearing, almost not seeing the small stream or the rock that sat beside it. He quickly avoided it and came to stand by Gilligan's side.

"Gilligan came running up crying 'There is no mission!' over and over again!" the Skipper told him, feeling sorry for his friend. "Gilligan, what happened?"

"Well," Gilligan started, his voice wavering, "I w-was going to g-g-get the co-coconuts you asked for Skipper, then I tripped over something."

The Skipper couldn't help but smile at Gilligan's imitation of tripping.

"Then I saw a shiny gold fork stuck to the bottom of my pants and tried to pull it out, and someone was holding it on the other end!"

The Skipper's eyes grew wide and he asked, "Who was it? Will he get us rescued?"

"No," Gilligan replied, shaking his head. Suddenly, his voice grew quiet. "He said if we didn't tell him what our mission is on this island, 'I get angry. And vhen I get angry, I feel like I am vanting to kill someone'," Gilligan said, imitating the accent. "He's gonna kill us, Skipper!"

The Skipper look sympathetically at the boy, putting his hand on his shoulder and murmuring, "There, there, little buddy."

Gilligan seemed calmed by this, but he wasn't totally.

The Professor seemed unaware of Gilligan's fear and asked, "Did you say a gold fork?" "Yeah," a weary Gilligan replied. "It was part of a pocket knife with all sorts of attachments, like a spoon and a screwdriver." He made motions with his hands as if to act out his words.

"A gold pocket knife..." The Professor pondered over this for a moment, then it suddenly dawned on him. "Didn't your 'double' have a shiny gold pocket knife?"

"Yeah, and that's just who I saw!"

The Skipper's sympathy went away and turned into annoyance. "Gilligan, are you saying you stopped collecting coconuts because you saw your reflection?"

"No!" Gilligan protested. "I stopped because I saw another me!"

"Gilligan," the Professor started softly, "what you saw was a perception in a conscious state in the absence of external stimuli which has qualities of real perception. In other words, it was a hallucination."

"Oh!" Gilligan exclaimed, smiling. "I thought you were going to say I was just seeing things!"

The Skipper rolled his eyes and the Professor gave his 'this guy's hopeless' look.

"Gilligan, that's what hallucination means!" the Skipper explained softly, but the annoyance in his voice was all too evident.

"You mean you don't believe me?!" the boy cried, almost in tears.

"Well, er-" Skipper stammered, trying to find the right words. Failing, he sighed and said, "No, we don't."


	3. The Mirror

**The Mirror**

"But why don't you believe me?!" Gilligan asked, panic stricken, his baby blue eyes wet with tears that would not fall. "I know I saw him! I wasn't imagining things! I even tripped over his fork-thingy!"

"Gilligan," the Professor began, holding his hands up as if to calm the first mate, "what the Skipper means is that you tend to conjure up many different images and think you saw them, when they really have no substance."

"I don't know what you said, but I saw what I saw!"

By this time the Skipper had begun to get really annoyed, but he was still worried about his little buddy, and he had a hard time containing himself.

Gilligan noticed the Skipper's face turn pink with the effort not to yell, and asked, "What's wrong, Skipper? You're all pink, like a big, fa..." His voice trailed off as something red caught his eyes. "It's him!" he cried and took a flying leap, landing in Skipper's arms, just as Mary Ann walked into the clearing wearing a red short sleeved T-shirt and navy blue capris.

Sarcastically, Skipper said to Gilligan, "Yes, you look exactly the same," before dropping him onto the sand.

"What's going on, here?" asked Mary Ann as Gilligan let out a groan and picked himself up.

"Gilligan thinks he saw someone who looked like him again," the Professor told her unenthusiastically.

"I didn't think," Gilligan protested once more. "I saw."

"That's right, Gilligan," the Skipper started softly, then bellowed, "You saw the opportunity to stop collecting coconuts, and didn't think twice before taking it! Now go out there and get those coconuts- and that's an order!"

Afraid of being hit on the head with the Skipper's hat, Gilligan shot out into the jungle like a bullet, his arms covering his head.

"Skipper, I don't think you should be so hard on him!" Mary Ann objected after Gilligan had left. "But Mary Ann, he didn't do a job I gave him before!" the Skipper protested as though the girl with dark pigtails standing before him were a little child.

"Yes, but he saw something that scared him to death and you're just sending him back to meet it again!"

The Professor remained silent, lost in thought.

"Mary Ann, don't you want coconuts for tonight's dinner?" the Skipper asked.

"Well, yes, I do but-"

"I know this has happened before," the Professor interrupted, finally putting voice to his thoughts, "and we didn't believe Gilligan then. It turned out he was right, did it not?"

The Skipper thought for a moment."Well, I guess so Professor, but what are you getting at?" he asked, confused.

"I am getting at the fact that Gilligan may be telling the truth."

"Oh, Professor!" Mary Ann exclaimed. "You really think he may have seen his double?"

"I am just thinking of the possibility that someone else may be on the island," the Professor explained, putting his hand on his chin thoughtfully.

The Skipper frowned. "But why would Gilligan see his double twice within a year? Is that even possible?"

"I don't know..." The Professor's voice trailed off as his thoughts once again consumed him. He began walking slowly out of the clearing muttering things to himself, which the Skipper and Mary Ann couldn't understand.

"Well," Mary Ann started, smiling, "I should go find Ginger! I need her to help me find more fruit for tonight!" And with that, she marched off into the foliage to search for the red-headed movie star.

* * *

Agent 222 stood at the lagoon, watching as the submarine sunk back into the majestic sea. A high pitched whining came from the pocket knife in his hand.

"_Da,_ Commandant?" he asked as he opened it up.

"Did you get de item?" the Commandant asked him with his deep, gravelly voice.

"_Da,_ Commandant! I have the new Laser Mirror! Not only can it stun, kill, and vaporize anything, I can also style my hair with it!" 222 joked.

There was a long pause.

After what seemed like an eternity, the Commandant finally spoke. "No joking! And no speaking about de item out loud! Vhat if someone is listening?"

"Do not vorry, Commandant," 222 assured, feeling on top of his game. "No vun can listen because no vun is at the lagoon! They are all far away."

"How can you be sure?" the Commandant said, as if he knew something Agent 222 didn't. "Vhat do you mean?" 222 asked nervously.

"Dese are Americans!" the Commandant shouted angrily. "Dey are unpredictable! You never can tell vhen vun vill sneak up on you! You have to be alert! Did you forget dat dis is your last chance at vorking for de government? Or are you to busy vondering how cold it is in Siberia?"

"I know, I know!" 222 cried, "But, now I have the Laser Mirror! No vun can take it from me, or know how to use it!"

Agent 222 pulled out a shiny object from his pocket. It was a round, gold mirror, with red gems edging the frame. Its handle had several buttons, each a different color; they were in a line of red, blue, and purple.

"I am the only vun who knows how to use it on this island."

"Good! Keep it dat vay, or you vill learn about Siberia de hard vay!" the Commandant threatened before signing off.

"I should have listened to Mother!" 222 cried before he ran through the jungle to his little hide out.

When he got there, he checked his pocket for the mirror. 222 eyes widened in horror as he realized it wasn't there. He had dropped it somewhere on the island.

* * *

Ginger walked gracefully through the jungle, swinging her hips as though she were a model on a runway. There was a flash of red in front of her as Gilligan shot past, not even stopping to glance at her elegant form. To her, this was strange, for most men always stopped to admire and comment on her glamorous hour-glass form, but then again, Gilligan wasn't a normal man. She continued to walk, forgetting about the boy, and just marvelled at the beauty of the island. That was when she saw something out of the corner of her eye.

It was a shiny, golden mirror with red jewels around the edges. The handle had red, blue, and purple buttons. When she bent down to pick it up, she could see her own gorgeous face in the mirror. She patted her fiery red hair and began fixing the straps of her white bikini. Ginger smiled her picture-perfect smile at her reflection, before continuing to the lagoon. After just a few more steps, though, she stopped in her tracks.

"I don't want to break the mirror before I get a chance to use it," she said to herself before turning around and heading back to camp.

Just as she reached the door to the hut she and Mary Ann shared, Ginger was stopped by the sound of her room-mate's voice.

"Ginger!" Mary Ann called to the movie star just as she opened the wooden door- Ginger quickly hid the mirror behind her back. "There you are, Ginger! I was wondering if you could come with me to collect fruit for tonight's dinner."

Ginger smiled. "Of course, Mary Ann. Let me change first and I'll be right out."

Mary Ann nodded and went to wait by the communal table.

Inside the palm frond hut, two bamboo cots positioned on either side of the room served as beds. One half was perfectly made up and immediately said 'farm girl', while the other showed someone who wasn't that used to cleaning things herself. The table that lay in the center was covered in objects like perfume bottles, combs, scarves, and mirrors. None of those were as beautiful as the mirror that Ginger held in her hand, though. She ran over to the table and picked up her scarf, wrapping it around the mirror and pushing it underneath her other scarves. Once she was satisfied that the precious object was hidden, she quickly changed from her bikini into a two piece dress.

Oblivious to the amount of time she had taken to do all this, she heard Mary Ann's annoyed voice saying, "Ginger, no one is going to see how we look if we're miles away from civilization!"

"Speak for yourself!" Ginger called back, offended. She checked the mirror once more to make sure it was concealed, then raced out the door in a pair of white high heels.

Mary Ann rolled her eyes halfway, as if her kind face wouldn't let her look annoyed, and handed Ginger one of the bamboo baskets in her hand.

"I got these from the supply hut while you were getting ready." She turned and began to move towards the jungle, her pigtails bouncing as she stepped, with Ginger quick to follow. "By the way, why did you wear heels?" Mary Ann asked as they trekked through the lush tropical forest.

Ginger just smiled and said, "A girl's got to look her best! You never know when Rock Hudson may get shipwrecked with us!"

* * *

Agent 222 paced back and forth in front of the small cave. "Vhat vill I tell Commandant?" he asked himself. He wrung his hands nervously. _How could I let a very important piece of equipment slip out of my hands? Or... pocket. _As he pondered more and more, his thoughts turned to what would happen if he failed _and _lost valuable gear to the Americans. "How cold _is _Siberia?" he wondered out loud.

222 looked out through the foliage. His eyes lit up as he saw a familiar white cap and red shirt. The one who he was to be imitating was bent over, picking up coconuts from beneath a palm tree. _Maybe this is my chance!_ he thought, his sky blue eyes full of new hope. _Maybe I vill complete my mission vithout the laser mirror!_ 222 glanced around and saw a coconut at his feet. He slowly bent down to pick it up, thankful that Gilligan had not spotted him yet. _He is terrible spy! _

222 got on his knees and slowly crawled toward Gilligan, whose back was still turned as he continued picking up the numerous coconuts around him.

The first mate angrily picked up the coconuts at his feet. He already had about five in his arms, but he didn't want to face Skipper Jonas Grumby's rage if he collected a meagre supply. Gilligan didn't hear 222 as he crept up behind him. The next thing he knew, there was a sharp pain in the back of his head, and the sandy forest floor came rushing up to meet his face.


	4. The Agent Succeeds

**The Agent Succeeds**

Agent 222 grunted as he dragged Gilligan's limp, unconscious body across the ground to the small cave mouth behind him.

"He is heavier than he looks!" 222 commented in his deep voice.

By the time he had gotten the first mate into the cave and tied Gilligan's hands and feet together with vines, the boy had begun to awaken. 222 backed away as Gilligan shifted and groaned, lifting his tied hands to his head. His eyes shot open as he realized that his hands were lashed together. Taking in his surroundings- the soil walls of a cave- Gilligan let out a gasp.

"Where... am I?" he asked, not knowing that anyone else was there.

222 grinned evilly and said, "You are vith me, now!"

Gilligan's eyes widened and a look of sheer terror replaced his confusion.

"Please," the boy pleaded, "don't hurt my friends! Do anything you want with me, but _please_ don't hurt my friends!"

The spy shook his head, though this gesture was barely visible in the dim light.

"I cannot make any promises, because my mission requires that I follow orders." 222's hand immediately shot out and covered his mouth, and he mentally cursed himself for letting part of his mission slip.

Gilligan stared blankly at him, as if unsure what to say. _He looks like me, and my friends won't be able to tell the difference. _The first mate felt hopeless.

"What is your mission?" he asked wearily.

"Vell, since you von't be able to tell anyone, and they vouldn't believe you if you could anyvay, I vill tell you." 222 grinned at Gilligan's helpless expression. _Maybe I vill get that promotion, after all!_ "My mission is to-"

"GILLIGAN!" 222's explanation was cut short by Skipper's call. "Gilligan, little buddy!"

The first mate opened his mouth to call back, but 222 quickly cupped his hand over his mouth, making whatever he was going to say come out as 'hmmff'. The Russian spy reached into his pocket and pulled out a light blue scarf. Gilligan's eyes widened.

"Mmree Anm!" came the shocked reaction of the boy who was trapped by his double. 222 just nodded, unsure of what Gilligan had just said, but still trying to make his presence seem powerful.

"GILLIGAN!" the Skipper shouted again, this time closer. "Where are you, little buddy?"

Gilligan struggled to get away, but his attempts were futile. Agent 222 quickly removed Gilligan's white sailor's cap and tied the scarf around the first mate's head, turning it into a gag. He backed away as the boy struggled even more.

Gilligan's wrists and ankles burned where the vines were tied, and now the gag around his head dug into his skin. He stopped his struggle when he realized he wasn't going to get out anytime soon. The first mate watched as his hat was dropped to the ground at his feet._ I hope the others will be okay. _

222 looked down one more time at the boy's disheartened expression, then squeezed out through the small cave's opening. Once more, the espionage agent took a quick look at his surroundings. The sun had already begun to sink down, causing the blue tropical sky to adapt a beautiful mixture of yellow, pink, and purple. _It must have taken longer than I thought to drag Gilligan into that cave,_ he thought.

"GIL-I-GAN!" Skipper's yell broke his thoughts. 222 quickly grabbed a few palm fronds to conceal the cave, then pulled out his pocket knife. He winced as the loud, high-pitched whining emanated from the golden object.

"Commandant, I have completed Phase Two," Agent 222 reported.

"Good," came the voice of the Commandant. "Now, vhen you imitate this Gilligan, do better dan last time."

"_Da, _Commandant." 222 quickly folded the knife up and placed it back in his pocket. His face adapted the boyish innocence of Gilligan, then he walked over to where the first mate had been collecting coconuts and sat with his long legs stretched out in front of him. He tried to look dazed, and wobbled back and forth.

Soon the Skipper spotted 222 on the ground.

"Gilligan, little buddy, we've been looking all over for you!" he exclaimed.

"Why? I was right here!" 222 was pleased to have come up with this, and got up very slowly, to make his performance more believable.

Skipper looked around at all the coconuts on the ground, then at the way his 'little buddy' was behaving.

"Are you alright, Gilligan?" he asked, putting hand on "Gilligan's" shoulder to steady the boy.

"I think I hit my head on... something..." 222's voice trailed off, as if he was having trouble remembering, but on the inside he felt as if he were going to burst out laughing at the man's ignorance.

"Oh, little buddy!" the Skipper exclaimed. "Are you okay?" His blue eyes were filled with concern.

"I think so, Skipper," 222 replied, staggering. The Skipper was being taken in by all of this, and he gently lifted 'Gilligan' up into his arms.

"I think you should rest, little buddy," Skipper told him as he carried 222 back to camp. "Everything will be alright."

222 kept up his act, and when Skipper walked into camp, the five other castaways gasped.

"Skipper, is the poor boy alright?" asked Mrs. Howell, a rich woman wearing a pearl necklace and a diamond bracelet. On her gloved finger was a rather large diamond ring, and diamond earrings dangled down from her ears. She wore a pink outfit and a blue hat covered her curled-up platinum blond hair. Her husband sat beside her, dressed just as smartly, but he didn't wear all of those trinkets. On his head, sat a tan hat, covering up his receding hair.

"Yes, Mrs. Howell," Skipper replied softly. "He just hit his head. I'm putting him in his hammock to rest."

Everyone at the communal table wearily went back to eating and conversing as Skipper disappeared into the hut he and Gilligan shared.

Gently, the Skipper lay 222 down in Gilligan's hammock.

"Skipper, can I ask you something?" 222 asked, still trying his best to imitate Gilligan's voice.

"Sure. What is it, Gilligan?" Skipper tried to talk softly, but it wasn't working out for him.

"Well, I've been thinking about life," 222 began, "and I was wondering, what is it that we're doing here?"

Skipper began to look concerned. "Well, you must have hit your head pretty hard to not know that we're shipwrecked!"

222 didn't say anything after that. He just closed his eyes and made soft snoring sounds. The Skipper assumed that he had fallen asleep, so his quietly walked out of the green hut. As soon as the Skipper left, 222 jumped out of the hammock, only to land on his back with a loud _THUD!_

He groaned and got up, rubbing his head. "I guess this is how the vuns who I imitate feel!" he exclaimed, now back to his normal voice.

Agent 222 didn't even look around. He just pulled out his pocket knife and unfolded it. As usually, the high-pitched whine filled the hut. 222 winced and hoped that the people outside hadn't heard.

"Commandant, you there?" the spy asked into the spoon.

"I am here," the Commandant purred.

"I am in the Skipper and Gilligan's hut. They believe I am their 'Little Buddy'." The Russian agent told the Commandant with a grin."I shall find the information soon. Their shipvrecked front is still going strong. I believe they are vorried that the island is under surveillance."

There was a long pause, then: "You must gain deir trust. You must get dem to tell you vhy dey are on dat forsaken island, and how long deir mission is."

"_Da_, Commandant," 222 said. "I vill not fail this time!"

No reply came.

"You still there?" 222 asked wearily.

He could hear the Commandant mutter something inaudible over the transmitter, but he was sure he heard the words "Should have" and "other spy".

"Remember, you now have only sixty two hours left in your mission." the Commandant boomed.

Angrily, 222 signed off and folded his pocket knife. He attempted to climb back into the hammock, but the death trap flipped him into the Skipper's hammock and on to the floor. Silently cursing, he tried once more, only to fall to the ground again.

After repeatedly trying to get into Gilligan's hammock, he finally made it. 222 slowly rocked back and forth.

_I vill not fail,_ 222 repeated to himself, and soon he was rocked into a deep sleep.

* * *

At the communal table, the castaways sat three to a side. They had finished the meal that Mary Ann and Ginger had prepared and were talking in hushed voices.

"Professor, does Gilligan really think he saw someone who looked like him?" Ginger asked the man whose face was buried in a book labeled 'World of Facts'. He sat right across from her and beside Mary Ann.

"Yes," the scientist replied, closing the book. "Not only did he see a person who looks like he does, he also says he talked to him. He said that double had a strange accent, which I believe to be Russian."

"Good Heavens! Someone call Dr. Freud!" exclaimed Mr. Howell. "That boy needs help!"

"I'm afraid that I can't find any answers in this book!" the Professor cried. "That's the second one that I've skimmed every page for the solution to Gilligan's dilemma, but found nothing."

"It's okay, Professor," the Skipper told the disappointed scientist. "It isn't your fault that the morons who wrote those books never heard of hallucinations."

Mary Ann put her hand on the Professor's. "He's right, Professor! It's not like you're the cause for his hallucination!"

The Professor's eyes suddenly lit up. "That's it!" he murmured. "Skipper! Maybe you are the cause for Gilligan's hallucination!"


	5. Almost

**Almost**

"What do you mean, Professor?" asked a perplexed Skipper. "Why would I be the cause for my little buddy seeing himself?"

"Yes, Professor," Mrs. Howell agreed. "I mean really- the captain wouldn't cause a boy like Gilligan to hallucinate! Would he, Thurston?"

Mr. Howell rolled his eyes. "Lovey, would you please let the man tell us what he means?"

"Thank you, Mister Howell. What I mean is that Gilligan may be feeling unappreciated," the Professor explained. "In his subconscious mind, he may have created the image of his double because he wanted to be a hero. Gilligan probably wanted to stop this notorious spy and be recognized for bravery."

"I see what you mean, Professor," began Skipper, "but what does that have to do with me?"

The Professor immediately answered: "Because you're the skipper, Skipper! You always save us from various circumstances. You've protected us all from danger, and Gilligan wants to do the same."

"But when you can't protect us, Gilligan saves us!" Mary Ann protested, folding her arms. "Like the time with the headhunter! We were all captured, and Gilligan was very brave to come and push the headhunter into the fire. He ran off screaming! And those other headhunters, too! And do you remember when the water ran out? Gilligan found more! When the Japanese sailor ca-"

"Oh," Ginger exclaimed, interrupting. "Who are you- Mary Poppins?"

"Professor, isn't there anything we can do to help the poor boy?" Mrs. Howell asked.

"Well, fortunately, I happen to know a little something about psychology," the Professor stated matter-of-factly. "I suggest that, in the morning, we try to find what's bothering Gilligan without making him suspicious. Mary Ann, on the other side of the island..."

* * *

Gilligan sat alone in the dark cave. The scene from a few hours ago played back in his mind: him tripping over his doubles pocket knife, and him running from his double in fright.

_Maybe if I had chased him_, Gilligan thought, _he wouldn't be in camp where my friends are._

Gilligan continued to battle the vines wrapped tightly around his wrists. He could feel hunger gnawing at him; he hadn't eaten lunch on the account he had been sent out for coconuts, and now the spy caused him to miss dinner as well.

His solemn eyes lit up as he felt the vines around his wrists loosen their grip. Gilligan would have smiled had there not have been a gag around his head. _Maybe I can get out of here!_ he thought excitedly, but when he tried to pull his hand out, he found it to be just as stuck as before.

Sadly, Gilligan stopped his struggles. He felt overwhelmingly tired, and he let his head droop so his chin rested on his chest. He gave one more final tug, before drifting off into a fitful slumber, not realizing the vines had finally give in to his struggles and fallen to the ground.

* * *

The sun rose up and shone through the window of the small hut, awakening Agent 222. He blinked his eyes to adjust to the bright morning light, forgetting where he was until he sat up and saw he was in a hammock; then he remembered and slowly attempted to climb out.

The Skipper was walking by the hut, hoping that 'Gilligan' was awake, when he heard a loud crash followed by a low moan. He raced into the door to find 'Gilligan' under both the hammocks with the bamboo supports lying in an 'X' on top of him.

"Oh, little buddy!" Skipper lamented, picking up the bamboo poles before helping 'Gilligan' to his feet. "How did that happen?"

"I tried to get out of that deathtrap!" 222 cried, remembering just in time to use Gilligan's voice.

Staring at the poles in his hands, reality hit Skipper. "Oh, Gilligan!" he bellowed. "Now I'll have to spend all day putting those back up!"

222 winced at how loud the Skipper had shouted."Do you have to yell so loudly in my EAR?!" the spy whined before turning about and bursting out the door. The Skipper just sighed in exasperation and decided against following his little buddy.

"Gilligan!" Mary Ann called as he raced by, making 222 stop in his tracks. He turned to the girl wearing a long sleeved blue shirt with dark blue overalls.

"What is it, Mary Ann?" 222 asked innocently.

"Have you seen my scarf?" the farm girl asked. "The blue one?"

Thinking back, 222 remembered. That was the scarf he had used on Gilligan. "Uh... no," he lied. "Why do you need it?"

"I was going to go to the other side of the island," Mary Ann explained. "The Professor said he needed some berries for an experiment. I was going to wear my scarf, because the Professor said that there are a lot of bugs in the place the berries grow."

"Oh, well you must have left it somewhere," 222 guessed. "Why don't you use one of Ginger's?"

"Hey!" Mary Ann exclaimed, smiling. "That's a great idea. The best one you've had this week!"

"Oh, well," began the agent, unsure of what to say. He still wasn't used to playing someone who wasn't as smart as he was. "You're welcome, Mary Ann." He spun around and was about to resume his running when Mary Ann stopped him again.

"Where are you going?" she asked, as if she were talking to a little boy in trouble with his parents.

"Did I miss breakfast?" 222 asked, improvising.

"Well, yes," Mary Ann said. "We had breakfast a little over an hour ago."

"Then that's what I'm going to get!" And with that, the agent whirled around and sped off into the jungle. When Mary Ann called again, he just ignored her and kept running.

Mary Ann stood for a while, staring at where the 'first mate' had disappeared. "I wonder what that was all about," she said, before returning to the hut she shared with Ginger.

When she opened the door, she could see that Ginger wasn't present. Her bed hadn't been made up as well. _As usual, _Mary Ann thought as she walked over to the table in the center of the hut. All of Ginger's beautiful scarves were piled up into a mess of color. Half-rolling her eyes, Mary Ann grabbed the first blue scarf she could find. She was about to leave when something caught her attention.

On the table, in the mess of scarves, was something golden. When Mary Ann removed all of the colored cloth, she gasped at what lay underneath. It was a mirror of gold, encrusted with red jewels. On the handle were three buttons: red, blue, and purple.

"Where would Ginger have gotten something like this?" she wondered, running her fingers along the rim, marveling at the beautiful combination of ruby red jewels and the gold frame. When she picked it up, her reflection stared back.

Mary Ann tied the scarf carefully around her head, intending to use it as a shield from the island insects. She was about to leave when she remembered to cover the mirror up carefully, so as not to break it or arouse Ginger's suspicions. Soon, the mirror was once again covered in a mass of rainbow scarves.

The farm girl nodded, satisfied, and raced out the door. Mary Ann ran to the supply hut, and then to the Professor's hut to retrieve the basket she had used with Ginger the day before.

Once she was prepared, Mary Ann jogged into the jungle, pigtails bouncing. Just a few meters into the trees, she caught sight of 'Gilligan' standing amongst the foliage. She was about to call out to him, but something held her back. She could see what he was doing: he was talking, but Mary Ann was out of earshot. As far as she could tell, 'Gilligan' was talking into a spoon.

* * *

222 stood in the jungle. In one hand he held a banana peel and in the other he held his golden pocket knife. He was about to report to the Commandant when the familiar whine emanated from the object.

He quickly unfolded it.

"Have you gotten de information?" the Commandant inquired impatiently.

"Not yet, Commandant," 222 replied. "I vill get the information vhen I have gained their trust."

"_You have not gained their trust?!_" the Commandant exclaimed, and 222 could tell he was fuming. "My superiors are very impatient, and you are very avare of vhat dey vill do if you fail! Ve give you simpler instructions, ve give you second chance, and ve give you more time! Vhat more can ve do?"

222 thought for a moment. "You could remember that I have forty-six hours left and that there is still a chance that I von't fail?" he guessed.

"Yes, I could," the Commandant agreed, "but you have already failed this mission before. If you fail again… Vell, let's just say you vill have bigger things to vorry about dan Siberia. After you have gotten de information, complete the last phase of your mission."

"Da, Commandant," the spy said with a grin before closing his pocket knife. He tossed the peel behind him and walked off toward his temporary hideout.


	6. The Berry

**The Berry**

Fast as she could, Mary Ann hiked on through the vegetation. _I must have imagined it,_ she kept reassuring herself. _Why would Gilligan talk into a spoon? _She shook off the memory and continued her trek.

She soon came to a spot where bushes of bright blue berries grew. Bugs swarmed around her, but they were no larger than the tip of a ballpoint pen. Forgetting about the insects, Mary Ann excitedly grabbed at the berries placing them neatly in her empty basket.

It wasn't until she had completed her task that she realized how many of the tiny pests were flying around her. She let out a squeal and began frantically hitting at the air as she fled into the bushes, basket around her arm. Strangely, the bugs did not bother the basket full of berries. Instead, they flew around it as if it were not there.

The next thing Mary Ann knew, she was soaking wet and in the lagoon. The swarm, to the farm girl's surprise, seemed to go over the lagoon and onto the land across from her. The berries were still on the shore, the basket having slipped off her arm during the drop. She sighed in relief as she stood up. The water only came up to her knees, and she easily waded to shore. Grabbing the basket, Mary Ann strolled down the path toward camp.

* * *

The Professor sat alone on the bench at the communal table. Hammering noises came from the Skipper's hut as he set the hammocks back up after Gilligan's incident earlier, and he didn't hear Mary Ann's light footsteps on the other side of camp.

"Oh, Professor!" the young girl called when she saw him, making him jump out of his seat. She giggled at him as the Professor tried to look casual.

"Mary Ann!" the scientist exclaimed. "That is the fastest berry picking I've ever seen!"

"Yep!" the farm girl said with a smile. "I went even faster because of all those bugs!"

"Oh, yes," the Professor responded guiltily. "I made you a repellent, but you left before I could give it to you." He reached over to take the basket, to find that Mary Ann was soaked. "How did you get wet?"

"I fell into the lagoon while trying to escape the bugs," she explained casually, as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

The Professor let out an "Ah" of realization. "Mary Ann, do you know how to make blueberry pie?"

The farm girl smiled. "Of course, Professor! My specialty back in Kansas. Why do you ask?"

Gesturing to the berries, he asked, "Do you notice how much these look like blueberries?"

Mary Ann's eyes widened in realization. "Why, no, I didn't! I was too busy trying to get away from those pesky little insects to notice!"

"Well," the Professor started, his face expressionless, "I have found that these berries have the same look and taste of blueberries. Do you remember that day a few months ago where I only told the truth? That is what this berry is used for. If you were to bake it into a pie and give it to Gilligan-"

"He would eat it and tell us what's bothering him with no problem!" Mary Ann interrupted excitedly. "That's brilliant, Professor! I'll get started right away!"

* * *

Gilligan awoke with a start. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the cave, he realized the vines on his wrists didn't feel right. He gave a tug, and gasped when his arms came flying out from behind his back, both free of the makeshift ropes. Quick as a flash, Gilligan untied his gag and the vines on his ankles.

"I better get back to camp!" he told himself, relieved at the sound of his voice. The first mate got on his knees and squeezed out of the cave. As soon as he was out, he sped off into the jungle.

* * *

"I'm telling you, Lovey, this plan is foolproof!" Mr. Howell whined, waving a huge wad of cash in the air. He and his wife were standing in their luxurious hut. Two beds sat side by side on one wall, and on the other a mirror stood beside a bamboo closet.

"But Thurston!" Mrs. Howell protested, ignoring his childlike tone. "The Professor said-"

"I don't care what the Professor said! Money is the answer to everything!" the millionaire cried, stamping his feet.

"Thurston, darling, we don't even know what the Professor's plan is!"

Thurston Howell III paused for a moment, counting the stack of bills in his hand. "Alright, Lovey, but if his plan fails I _am _going to try mine!"

"That's right, Thurston," Mrs. Howell said soothingly. "Now you just go out there and ask the Professor like the big, strong man you are."

Mr. Howell didn't realize how exaggerated this was, and struck a pose before turning and marching out the door.

* * *

222 stood in front of his cave, mouth agape, shocked at what he had seen inside. The blue scarf was there, the vines were there, but Gilligan was not! How he escaped again was unfathomable to the agent, and as he stumbled through the jungle, he knew that he was going to be caught.

It didn't occur to him until he reached the spot where Gilligan had found him the day before, that if he went back to camp, the others would see him and the real Gilligan together.

"Vhat am I going to do now?" he asked himself. That's when he heard her call. The spy turned to see Ginger farther into the tropic forest, waving at him. When she began to run toward him, he closed his eyes and turned his head, attempting to act like Gilligan.

"Gilligan, we've been looking all over for you," she said breathlessly, putting her arms around his neck in a light embrace. "We're all worried about you. Don't you know how much I care for you?"

"N-no, G-G-Ginger," 222 stammered, trying to keep his focus on acting like Gilligan, not the beautiful movie star in front of him. "I-I didn't realize t-that you l-liked me this much."

"Oh, Gilligan," Ginger began seductively. "I do. I do care for you, so! Do you know what I've always wanted?"

"W-what?" the agent asked, nervous. He almost couldn't fight the urge to throw away his Gilligan act and thrust his arms around her.

"Moonlit nights," she told him, "with you. Walks along the beach in that pretty little cove at sunset. Kisses..." Her voice trailed off as she leaned in and her lips met with his. After years on the island with Gilligan, Ginger was planning on him jerking away, but instead, to her surprise, he kissed back! It was bold and forceful, and Ginger was the one who pulled away.

"So, uh," Ginger tried to keep her breathy air, but couldn't hide the fear that tinged her voice. "Gilligan, will you tell me what's wrong? Will you tell Ginger?"

"Oh, my love!" 222 cried suddenly, throwing his arms around her and kissing her as she tried to struggle. "I have loved you ever since my sight first met with your beautiful sapphire eyes! I'll give you moonlit nights, and walks along the beach" As she broke away, he grabbed her arm and started kissing her smooth, pale skin. "I'll give in to your heart's desires! Then, we'll talk!"

Ginger moved her arm in a circular motion, forcing the spy to let go. "I-I just remembered!" she exclaimed, improvising. "I left some... Fish roasting! I've got to go!"

She fled into the jungle, with 222 attempting to grab her one last time before letting out a troubled sigh. "I do not understand!" he wailed, just as the whine of his pocket knife sounded.

"I do not understand, Commandant!" he cried wearily. "Romance alvays vorked on all my other missions!"

"Dat is because dese are _Americans_!" the Commandant growled. "You tried romance last time you vere on dis mission, and you got de same result, no?"

"Da, Commandant," the agent replied sadly. "I just thought that it vould vork this time, and, anyvay- she came to me!"

"I heard," the Commandant began. "But you vere not supposed to give in to her! Go and get de information, if you have not already!"

"Da, Commandant." 222 saluted the air before folding up his pocket knife. "But vithout the mirror," he added to himself, "I do not know how I am going to vin."

Shoving the knife into his back pocket, the agent walked down the path toward camp. _Knowing Gilligan, he probably vent the vrong vay,_ 222 thought as he pushed away the plants and made his way through the foliage.

* * *

Gilligan continued his run through the jungle. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, but his speed never wavered. It wasn't until he heard the voices of his friends did he come to a stop.

The first mate took in big gulps of air, but his mouth was spread into a big, toothy grin. _I made it to camp! _he thought. He slowly walked into camp, still gasping for air, though his fellow castaways couldn't hear him.

Ginger stood with the Professor, crying and telling him something- Gilligan couldn't hear what she was saying, but she sounded upset. They were beside the communal table, Mary Ann sat in one of the benches holding what looked to be blueberry pie, and the Skipper hovered around the Professor and Ginger, offering whatever comfort he could to the woeful movie star.

Gilligan stumbled over until the Skipper saw him.

"Gilligan!" he called, though his tone gave away no emotions. Gilligan smiled at him, but he didn't get two feet before he collapsed in the sand.


	7. Obviously Wrong

**Obviously Wrong**

"Gilligan!" the four castaways cried in chorus as they ran toward where the boy lay unconscious in the sand. Having left the pie on the table, Mary Ann was the first to reach him. Hearing the commotion, the Howells peered out their door.

"Really, the nerve of- Good heavens!" Mr. Howell exclaimed when he saw Gilligan in the sand. He ran over to where the others were huddled around the first mate.

"Whatever happened to the poor boy?" asked Mrs. Howell, who stood by her husband.

"A lot of things, Mrs. Howell," the Professor said as he gently turned Gilligan on to his back. He picked up his hand and shoved his sleeve back to take the boy's pulse, and was shocked to see a line of raw skin on his wrist. "Now, what happened here?" he asked softly, quickly putting his hand over it so it would not worry the others, but he had his suspicions.

"Gilligan stumbled into camp, I called to him, he tried to come over, but he just collapsed!" the Skipper cried, kneeling by his buddy.

"Oh!" Ginger, who had stopped crying, began. "Mr. Howell? Your plan didn't work. You can keep your money."

Instead of a reply, Mr. Howell sighed in relief that he wouldn't have to pay the movie star.

"I told you it wouldn't work, Thurston!" Mrs. Howell exclaimed matter-of-factly.

"I know, Lovey.," Mr. Howell said sadly. "But it was at least better than bribing the boy directly!"

"His pulse is very rapid," the Professor cut in, "but it is slowly returning to normal. From the looks of it, he has been running a very long distance. I would say from the other side of the island."

"What was he doing on the other side of the island?" the Skipper asked, bewildered. "I thought Ginger said Gilligan was in the center of the island!"

Ignoring the Skipper's question, the Professor added, "He also isn't sweating, which may be a sign of dehydration." Lifting his hand from Gilligan's wrist, he gestured to Mary Ann and Ginger. "Girls, I would like you to bring me a bucket of water and a cup."

"Alright, Professor..." Mary Ann trailed off when she saw the mark on Gilligan's wrist. She gasped and put her hand to her mouth. The Professor's eyes grew wide as he realized that the first mate's arm had been uncovered and he quickly put his hand back on it.

"There are marks on his skin at the wrists," the Professor added, "which may suggest something was tied around them."

No one said anything. Mary Ann and Ginger left quietly to get the items the Professor requested, the Howells returned solemnly to their hut, and the Skipper left to make sure Gilligan's hammock was tied tight enough for him to rest. Everyone remained silent, but they were all remembering Gilligan's encounter with his double.

* * *

Agent 222 sat on the edge of camp, attempting to eavesdrop on the castaways talking in hushed voices. When he had peeked through the brush before he had seen them all huddled around the real Gilligan. He had been thinking of numerous ways to enter the camp, and none of them seemed possible without exposing him as the impostor.

"Vell, there goes that promotion!" he exclaimed softly. He sat up on his knees and peered out at the castaways; all but the Professor had left. Since his back was turned, 222 attempted to sneak over to the nearest hut.

Just then the girls returned from their task, Mary Ann carrying a bucket of water and Ginger holding a coconut cup. They didn't seem to notice as the agent quickly backed up into the bushes.

The Professor looked up and saw the girls with the bucket and water. "Now I need you to dip the cup into the water and attempt to administer it to him."

"Sure, Professor!" Mary Ann exclaimed, and she and Ginger began to scoop the water up.

As soon as their backs were turned, 222 began to slowly crawl to the nearest hut—the hut shared by Mary Ann and Ginger. As soon as he got into the girl's hut, the first thing that came to his attention was a mass of scarves that sat piled up on the table. Making sure no one was about to enter, 222 quickly walked over to investigate what was under the scarves. He grabbed at them and sent them flying in all directions.

When he saw the golden mirror beneath, he could have jumped for joy. "I found it!" he cried, picking it up and holding it in front of him, marveling at his own good fortune. "I know now I definitely vill not fail!"

Grinning, Agent 222 strolled over to the small window by the door, and watched as the Professor got up and walked over to the communal table. Ever so quietly, he opened the door just a crack before slipping out, mirror in hand, and creeping out of the camp. When he was safely out of sight, he broke into a run.

Before too long he came to a cave. This one had a much bigger entry, and the inside could hold eight people with room to walk around. He nodded to himself, satisfied at the discovery, before turning around and heading back into the jungle. He had finally come up with a plan worth executing.

* * *

Mary Ann held the coconut cup in her hand, frowning. She sat in the sand, cradling Gilligan's head gently as she tried to get him to drink. After many failed attempts to do so, Ginger had left to fill the bucket up once more. All the water had spilled on Gilligan's red polo shirt, turning it a shade darker.

"Oh, Gilligan," she lamented, "you're such a mess now. How am I going to get you to drink this water?"

As if on cue, the Professor returned holding the 'truth berry' pie, cut into small pieces. The Professor didn't even need to ask if she had gotten any of the water into the boy's mouth; the answer was more than clear.

"I'll take over from here, Mary Ann," he told her, taking the empty cup out of her hands and placing the pie on the ground. When she didn't move, he walked over to the other side of Gilligan."Where is the water?" he asked when he couldn't find the bucket.

"Oh, uh," the farm girl began nervously, "on Gilligan's shirt..." she trailed off, before adding, "But Ginger went to get more!"

The Professor's eyebrows rose at the very idea that the movie star would do any manual labor, especially for Gilligan, who had acted like a madman around her earlier. He heard footsteps behind him and the slosh of water, and turned to see Ginger struggling with the bucket filled halfway with water, a large stain of the liquid on her dress.

"Ginger, just place the bucket on the ground right there," he said sympathetically and then watched the movie star carefully bend down, only to drop the bucket with a loud _THUD!_ He leaned over and grabbed the handle, pulling the bucket toward him, careful not to waste anymore.

Ginger groaned. "How do you carry that stuff, Mary Ann?" she asked, whining. "It's like that bowling ball I had to use in the movie _The Bowling Beauty_!"

"Ginger," the Professor began, dipping the cup into the bucket, "I shall withhold comment."

Holding the cup to Gilligan's lips, the Professor attempted to pour the liquid into Gilligan's mouth, but it all splashed down the first mate's chin and onto his soaked shirt. Mary Ann shot him a smug look as he dipped the cup in the water again, but before he could try to administer it to Gilligan, she grabbed the cup from the scientist.

"We've already wasted enough water going about like that!" she exclaimed.

"So I suppose you have a better way?"

"Well of course she does, Professor!" Ginger stood up for the farm girl. She nodded toward Mary Ann. "Go ahead, girl!"

Mary Ann smiled. Instead of trying to give the water to Gilligan, she put the cup to her own lips, keeping all of the water in her mouth. Then, she did something that the Professor would have never thought of. She leaned forward, and her lips met with Gilligan's in a kiss, with Mary Ann pushing all of the water out of her mouth into Gilligan's mouth. She continued her kiss for a moment longer than she needed, gentle and passionate.

The Professor's eyes widened when Mary Ann lifted away, and the first mate's eyes flickered open. He moaned and moved his hand to his head. "What happened?" he managed to rasp, unaware of what had just occurred, and no one alerted him. Ginger took a step back, as if at any moment Gilligan would see her and begin kissing her.

"You collapsed when you walked back into camp," the Professor explained. "You should drink some water." He dipped the cup in water once more, handing it to Gilligan. "You suffered from dehydration, which probably caused you to faint."

"De-hy-what?" the boy asked, making both the Professor and Mary Ann grin.

"It means you ran out of water," the farm girl explained.

"Oh." He took the cup, unsteadily, with both hands and slowly drained it of water, lifting it away and letting out a refreshed "Ahhhh". He sat up, feeling better already. This time, he filled the coconut himself, and drank it all down. Soon, the entire bucket was empty.

"Thanks guys!" Gilligan smiled, but his smile faded when he saw the look on Ginger's face, one of confusion and anger, and a little fear. "What's the matter, Ginger?" he asked sympathetically.

"Like you don't know!" she snapped.

"I don't know!"

"I've heard of wolves in Hollywood, but you are ridiculous!"

"Huh?" Gilligan's expression was one of utter confusion and hurt. He turned to the Professor and Mary Ann. "What does she mean?"

"I mean that you are stark-raving mad!" the movie star answered for them, her voice filled with rage.

"Hold it, Ginger!" the Professor shouted, stopping Ginger from lunging at Gilligan, who still sat on the ground in shock. "I think it's time we feed him that blueberry pie Mary Ann just baked. Maybe then he will remember." The first mate was about to ask something else, but the Professor stopped him. "She means you are blunt and irrational," he whispered.

Gilligan nodded, but it was obvious he was still confused, though he kept his mouth shut. Mary Ann took one of the pieces of the pie and handed it to Gilligan, who took it wholeheartedly. He was about to begin eating it when Skipper came bursting out of his hut door.

"Professor!" he called. "I heard my little buddy's voice!" He raced over to where they were sitting on the ground, Ginger standing a few yards away with her arms crossed. "Oh, Gilligan, you're awake!" Skipper exclaimed, bending over to put his hand on Gilligan's shoulder. "How do you feel?"

"Starved!" Gilligan whined, before taking a bite out of the slice. His eyes lit up and a wide grin spread across his face. "Wow," he blurted. "After being trapped in a cave, this tastes really great!"

Every pair of eyes widened. "Did you say trapped in a cave?" Skipper asked.

"Yeah, Skipper!" Gilligan answered, not even realizing that he was spilling out everything at once. "My double hit me over the head with a coconut, and dragged me into this cave, see? And he tied my wrists together, and my ankles together, and started talking to me in this weird Russian accent and he gagged me before I could answer you when you called."

No one said anything. Finally, the Professor broke the silence. "How long were you trapped in that cave?"

"I dunno..." the first mate trailed off as he tried to recall his experience."I was trapped in the cave all night, and I guess a few hours yesterday, and a few hours today."

This time, it was Ginger who continued the interrogation. "Did you...you know, try to kiss me?" she asked nervously.

"Ew!" Gilligan exclaimed. "No! I would never try to kiss a girl! That's just gross!"

The Professor and Mary Ann grinned at that, but they weren't going to tell him how they got him to drink water. At least, not yet. The Professor gave everyone the look that said "That's enough" before getting up and taking the pie back to the table, with Gilligan staring at it solemnly.

Suddenly, the door to the Howell hut opened up and out came Mr. and Mrs. Howell, dressed as if they were on their way to the Royal Ball.

"Mrs. Howell and I are going for a little stroll before din-din," Mr. Howell explained.

"I hope you get better, dear!" Mrs. Howell called to Gilligan, who nodded.

"Thank you, Mrs. Howell," he replied as he watched the two vanish into the jungle.

* * *

It had taken a few hours, but it was finished. 222 stood in front of the large cave, the entrance now blocked by a bamboo grid. A door was made into the grid, complete with padlock.

"It is ready," he said to himself. He walked over and gave his creation a tug, to be sure it was steady, before sitting on the rock that lay not three feet from the cave mouth.

Suddenly, he heard footfalls coming from the jungle. On the alert, he quickly ducked down behind the rock, looking out over into the foliage. Soon, he saw the Howells come into the clearing in front of the cave. The rich couple were talking quietly to each other, and they didn't even notice the agent or the cave.

222 shrugged and got up, walking over to the millionaires like he was Gilligan.

"Why, hello, dear boy!" Mr. Howell greeted.

"Are you well?" Mrs. Howell asked. "I was sure you were ill when we left camp."

"In fact, I thought you were still in camp!" Mr. Howell added.

The agent didn't say anything; he just stood there, attempting to make his presence menacing. He reached into his back pocket, and pulled out his shiny gold pocket knife.

"Egad, Lovey!" Mr. Howell exclaimed. "That's a pocket knife made from solid gold!"[EC1]

"Thurston," Mrs. Howell began, confused, "didn't Gilligan say his double had a gold pocket knife?"

Just as they were pondering over what Gilligan had said, 222 walked over to the bamboo jail and opened the door, flipping his knife out. Returning to the Howell's with his blade pointed at them, he gestured to the cave and said in his own voice, "Get in."

"Oh, really," Mrs. Howell began, "didn't anyone tell you that it's rude to point?"

"Uh, Lovey, I think we'd better listen!" Mr. Howell exclaimed, nudging his wife over until they were both in the cave. Pulling a large bamboo key out of his pocket, 222 closed the door and locked it with a click.

"You can't really be planning on capturing everyone!" Thurston cried. "That's impossible!"

"I captured you two, did I not?" he asked. Neither millionaire replied. "And, anyvay, I enjoy the challenge."


	8. One by One

**One by One**

"Where are the Howells?" Mary Ann's worried voice broke the long silence at the communal table. The sun had already sunk behind the trees, and everyone had getting ready to eat the banquet of bananas, coconuts, fish and pineapples when they noticed the millionaires weren't in attendance.

"They said they were going on a stroll before dinner about an hour ago," Skipper told her, hoping to ease her nerves.

"But they should be back by now!" Ginger exclaimed. "They never go out longer than fifteen minutes, and even that's a stretch!

"Well," Professor started, "I'm sure that they will be back just as soon as they're ready. I say we should eat and save some for the Howells."

"Agreed!" Skipper declared. Gilligan nodded and eagerly dug in. Everyone else was reluctant to start without the rich couple, and the girls were both picking at their fish with wooden forks.

Dinner went on as usual, though no one uttered a word. All of the castaways were hoping that Mr. and Mrs. Howell would return- but they didn't. After a while, the Professor spoke up.

"I believe that there is a strong possibility that the Howells have been abducted."

"What's ab-duct-ted?" Gilligan asked, sounding out the word.

"It means he thinks they were captured," Skipper said, annoyed and none too quiet, making Gilligan wince at his tone.

"What do you mean, Professor?" Mary Ann asked, even more worried than before.

But it was Ginger who answered. "I think he means that Gilligan's double kidnapped them. He's certainly capable!" She shot a look over at Gilligan, as if she didn't completely trust that there even was a double, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Precisely!" the Professor exclaimed, standing. "He kidnapped Gilligan, who managed to escape, and now the Howells. We know he is dangerous and we must act now!" He slammed his fist on the table, causing everyone to jump.

"But, Professor," Gilligan began, "he's really dangerous! His pocket knife has a laser beam and a death ray!"

"He's right, Professor," Skipper agreed. "He has a death ray, and all we have is our hands!"

"But we've got to find the Howells," Ginger protested. "We have to stop him before he does something to Mr. and Mrs. Howell!"

"I say we form a search party!" Skipper cried, adrenaline pumping.

"You're right, Skipper. Girls, you're with me; Skipper, you're with Gilligan." The Professor got up and started for the jungle without even waiting for Mary Ann and Ginger to follow. Not wanting to venture out alone, they quickly ran after him.

Skipper got up and motioned Gilligan to follow him, and the first mate was quick to listen. They both went the direction opposite of the Professor and the girls.

"Now Gilligan," Skipper started, whispering, "I don't want you to say a word."

"Aye aye, sir!" Gilligan saluted him. "I won't say a single word!"

"Good."

"You can count on me! Not a single word."

"Okay."

"I won't even say something that isn't a word. I'll be perfectly s-"

"GILLIGAN!" Skipper bellowed, forgetting his rule, mentally cursing himself for doing so.

"Shh, Skipper!" Gilligan whispered. "You're not supposed to talk!"

Skipper grabbed his own hat and hit Gilligan over the head with it.

"Ow!" Gilligan complained, though it hadn't hurt so much as startled him, but he kept quiet. Skipper sighed in exasperation, before continuing on through the jungle. "Wait up!" Gilligan called, and Skipper didn't even attempt to shush the boy.

* * *

The moon cast an eerie glow upon the forest, causing the three searchers to jump at the slightest rustle of a leaf. The Professor led the girls through the foliage, calling out "Mr. and Mrs. Howell?" as softly as he could, Mary Ann and Ginger following his example.

"Wait, girls!" He halted, holding his arm out to stop the other two.

"What is it, Professor?" Mary Ann asked. Ginger didn't say anything; she just kept making strange poses and facial expressions. Curious, Mary Ann turned to Ginger. "And what are you doing?"

"I'm going to try and lure the other Gilligan away from Mr. and Mrs. Howell!" the movie star exclaimed, continuing her 'rehearsal' as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Professor rolled his eyes, but the girls couldn't see this in the dim light.

"I think we should split up," Professor suggested. "I believe we can cover more ground."

"Oh, in this light?" Mary Ann cried, fear coating her soft, sweet voice.

"And with that man running around?" Ginger asked, shocked.

"But if we cover more ground, we can find the Howells faster!" the Professor tried to explain, nudging Mary Ann one way and Ginger the other. "Mary Ann, you go that way, Ginger go that way, and I will be over here." And with that, the Professor turned and speed walked through the jungle. Mary Ann and Ginger glanced at each other, before running out into the undergrowth, nearly scared out of their wits.

* * *

Agent 222 paced back and forth in front of the prison he had created. The Howells he kept in the jail were shooting him dirty looks, but he didn't care. He was waiting.

Sure enough, the bushes rustled as someone brushed by them, the signal he had been waiting for. He walked close enough to where he could see Mary Ann, scuttling through the undergrowth like a frightened mouse.

"Hey, Mary Ann!" he called, using his Gilligan imitation.

"Gilligan?" the farm girl asked, wary. "Where are you?" She glanced around, and, seeing his red shirt, came running toward him. She clung onto his arm and whispered, "I'm so afraid... I never liked the dark, especially if it's in a tropical jungle."

"Well, come on this way, Mary Ann!" he told her, leading her toward the cave.

222 had just gotten to the door and was about to unlock it when Mr. and Mrs. Howell cried in unison, "Run!"

"Mr. Howell and Mrs. Howell?" Mary Ann looked confused for a moment, and then it dawned on her. "You're not Gilligan..." Her voice trailed off as she backed away, only to trip over the rock that was behind her. The agent took her by the arm and dragged her to her feet, causing the girl to scream.

222 winced at the sound, praying that no one had heard it but himself and the Howells. He yanked the key from his pocket, opened the door, and threw her in. Mary Ann barreled into Mrs. Howell, who fell right into Mr. Howell, knocking all three of them onto the cave floor. 222 grinned at the scene, before slamming the door shut and locking it once more.

"Do not escape vhile I'm gone!" he shouted before speeding off into the jungle.

"How can we escape?" Mr. Howell pouted as they picked themselves off the ground. "This grid is like solid gold!"

"I think you mean rock," Mary Ann corrected.

"No, I mean gold!" he exclaimed, offended.

"A Howell be trapped in anything less," Mrs. Howell began, just as vexed. "I mean, really!

* * *

Ginger nearly ran into a tree when she heard Mary Ann scream. She quickly turned around and ran as fast as she could in heals calling, "Professor!" Suddenly, she bumped into something and fell to the ground.

"Ginger!" the Professor cried, giving her his hand and pulling her to her feet. "Mary Ann's been captured!"

Ginger looked like she was about to cry. "It was a horrible idea to split up!" she shouted.

"I know, I know." The Professor drooped his head solemnly. "I shouldn't have even suggested it. I just assumed that we would be able to find the Howells faster. Now I've only caused us to lose one more person!"

Neither of them said anything for a while. The Professor and Ginger held hands as they slowly crept toward the area from which Mary Ann's scream had emanated. They were so caught up in searching for the farm girl that they did not notice 'Gilligan' was right behind them. Suddenly, they both paused, and 222 almost ran right into them.

"Ginger," the Professor began softly, "I will go up ahead. You wait right here." He reluctantly let go of her hand and slowly walked forward.

Suddenly, he heard a scream behind him, and someone yell, "Shh!" When he turned around, the movie star had vanished.

* * *

Ginger couldn't stand being dragged by Agent 222. She was about to attempt to break free from his vice grip, but something held her back. Whether it was the fact that she knew she couldn't overpower him, she wasn't sure, so she meekly allowed herself to be pulled along like a child and their parent in a super market.

Soon, she had been dragged into a small, moss covered clearing, though it was hard to tell what covered it in the little light that the moon cast. She could see a rather large grid covering the mouth of a cave, and behind it stood Mary Ann, Mr. Howell, and Mrs. Howell.

"Ginger!" Mary Ann exclaimed. "He got you, too?"

"No," she began sarcastically, "I just felt like being dragged here!"

"Shh!" 222 repeated, holding up his index finger. "Ve do not vant the others to hear!"

"You mean _you_ don't want the others to hear," Mary Ann corrected.

222 paused, considering her words. "Maybe you are right!" Mary Ann rolled her eyes. 222 fished out from his pocket the key to the door. He swiftly unlocked it and shoved Ginger inside. "This is vhat you get for running," he said before slamming the door and locking it once again. Ginger gave him a dirty look before marching off to the back of the cave, only to sit down on the floor. 222 shrugged and started to waltz back into the jungle. That's when he noticed a man creeping up on the cave, as if he were going to try and let the prisoners free. Upon closer observation, 222 could tell it was the Professor. He slowly tiptoed back until he was right behind the man.

"Professor!" Mary Ann exclaimed excitedly, not noticing 222 behind him. "Oh, Gilligan's double will be back any minute!"

"It's about time," Mr. Howell commented, and Mrs. Howell nodded in agreement, though the Professor could tell they were happy to see him.

"Stand back!" the Professor ordered. "I'm going to try to pick the lock, but if it doesn't work, I'm going to try and ram the cage."

Mary Ann and the Howells stepped back and Ginger stood up, all four of them brimming with enthusiasm. Professor stuck his hands into his kaki pockets, but pulled them out empty.

"Vhat are you doing?" 222 asked, whispering.

"Trying to free my friends," the Professor answered, not realizing who he was talking to.

"Maybe this vill vork better." the agent said, handing the Professor his wooden key.

"Thank you!" The Professor stuck the key in the lock and opened the door. Just as he did so, his eyes widened and he turned to see 222 standing by him, ginning evilly. Suddenly, he was pushed inside the cave. He heard the door close and the lock _click._

"You just made my job that much easier!" 222 exclaimed, shoving the key in his pocket with the mirror, which promptly fell on the ground.

"You dropped something," alerted Mrs. Howell.

"Vhat?" the spy asked, looking down. "Oh! Thank you!" He bent down to pick the mirror up, and they all gasped.

"Lovey, I think I'm going to faint!" Mr. Howell cried.

"That's the mirror you found, Ginger!" Mary Ann blurted out, covering her mouth when Ginger shot her a look.

The spy shook his head and turned, walking away until he was out of earshot of the trapped castaways. He pulled out his pocket knife, opening it. Soon the familiar shrill whine emanated from it.

"Commandant, I have captured five of the spies!" 222 said proudly.

"Good," the Commandant purred. "Who is left?"

"Only the Skipper and Gilligan."

"_Gilligan escaped?!_" the Commandant cried, furious.

"Vell, he is mastermind!" 222 explained. "He escapes no matter vhat he is in!"

"Gilligan _is_ mind behind whole mission," the Commandant agreed. "You should have killed him vhen you had de chance!"

"I know, Commandant." the spy confessed. "But at least I have five prisoners, da?"

"Da. You only have thirty one hours left. As soon as you capture de last two, interrogate dem. After you have gotten de information, dispose of dem, once and for all."

Agent 222 grinned. "Of course, Commandant." He folded his pocket knife, before continuing on to search for the Skipper and his first mate.

* * *

Gilligan looked down at the sandy shore below him. The Skipper had suggested that they rest awhile, and Gilligan had decided to look around. He had come to the top of a cliff, about twenty feet above the ground, and he had begun thinking about what would happen if one fell from that height. He sat down to look at the view of the majestic ocean, the moon and stars reflecting in its waters, the very picture of beauty.

Suddenly, someone put a hand on Gilligan's shoulder, snapping him back to reality. He looked up to see the Skipper, motioning for him to follow. He quickly got to his feet, almost tripping, but regaining his footing only by grabbing onto the Skipper's arm. He sighed in relief and took one last look at the fall, before he and the Skipper began to walk.

It was then that Gilligan saw something out of the corner of his eye. It was his double, holding up a mirror that had the Skipper, unaware of the spy, reflected in it. One of the rubies encrusting the mirror was glowing, and he turned to the Skipper and saw a small red dot right on his middle. That's when it dawned on him.

"Look out, Skipper!" he cried, pushing the Skipper out of the way to safety a few feet away, just as 222 press a button on his mirror.

Suddenly, a beam of light shot out from the mirror, engulfing Gilligan in its brilliance. Gilligan could feel his limbs freeze, and he realized he couldn't move. Slowly, he could feel himself slipping away into unconsciousness. When the beam melted away, Skipper watched in horror as his little buddy's limp, unconscious body fell backward and tumbled down the cliff.


	9. A Wish

**A Wish**

"Gilligan! Oh, my buddy!" Skipper shouted as he saw Gilligan fall backwards over the edge of the cliff. He ran over to where Gilligan had been standing, where Gilligan had saved his life. When he looked down, he saw his friend lying in an awkward position on the sandy beach bellow, unmoving."Gilligan, little buddy!"

There was no reply, and Gilligan did not stir.

"Vell, vhat is one day, more or less?" a voice asked from behind him. He turned to see a spitting image of Gilligan, standing with the knife on his shining gold pocket knife turned out and facing him.

"Why did you want to shoot Gilligan?" Skipper asked, his sorrow changing to pure rage, and he balled up his fist like he was ready for a fight.

"I vas trying to stun you, but he pushed you out of the vay," the man explained. "It is as simple as that."

"Who are you, anyway?"

"You can call me Agent 222, or just 222," he said with a grin, one that made even Skipper shudder.

Skipper quickly got over it, looking as though he were about to throw a punch at the spy, and yelled, "Why I oughtta-"

"I vould not do that if I vere you, Skipper," 222 interrupted, holding up his free hand. "You see, this simple looking knife is a death ray. I could kill you vith the touch of a button!"

"I'd like to see you try!" Skipper threatened.

Agent 222 sighed and shook his head. "It is not as simple as that, Skipper. You see, I vas ordered to take Gilligan's place, but he escaped earlier than I had expected. If I encased him in a brick wall, he vould find a vay out!"

"Well, then why are you capturing everyone?"

222 didn't answer; he just stood and kept Skipper's gaze, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "I have orders," he said finally.

"_Orders?!_" Skipper exclaimed. "Is that your excuse for taking another man's life?" Suddenly, reality hit him like a crack in the jaw. "Gilligan!" he cried suddenly, running back over to the edge. "Gilligan!" he called once more, but there was still no reaction. "I've got to get a vine or something..." he murmured, but 222 overheard.

Instead of stopping him, he smiled as he watched the man scurry around, looking for the longest vine he could find. "Excuse me," he called, making the Skipper pause. "How do you expect to attach Gilligan to that vine?"

"I was going to lower myself down, get Gilligan, then raise myself up," Skipper explained.

"Oh, vell, how do you intend to do that vhen there is no one around to help you?"

When the Skipper didn't reply, the spy chuckled. "I thought as much," he said. "Vould you please come vith me?" he asked.

"No!" Skipper exclaimed, crossing his arms. "I'm not leaving until I get my little buddy up from down there."

"You do not have a choice."

"You asked."

"But I did not mean for you to take it as a qvestion, so come vith me!" 222 pointed his death ray right at the Skipper's heart. "You know vhere that big cave is, da? The one that is big enough for-"

"Yeah, I know that cave," Skipper interrupted, answering before he could finish. "It's that one that's carved into this very cliff."

"Vell, lead the vay!" the agent shouted, gesturing into the jungle.

Sighing, the Skipper looked one more time back to where Gilligan had once stood, but he knew there was nothing he could do. A single tear slid down his cheek, before he turned and walked slowly into the forest, with 222 on his tail.

* * *

The moon was high in the sky, casting a very dim light into the cave where the captured castaways sat. Mary Ann was nervously biting her nails, Ginger was sulking in the back against the wall, and Mr. and Mrs. Howell sat beside each other, Mr. Howell's hand resting on Mrs. Howell's, as to comfort both of them.

"I hope the Skipper and Gilligan are okay," Mary Ann said softly.

"Skipper's got strength," Ginger began. "He could probably fight off that creepy agent and rescue us. Gilligan..." She trailed off, as if she couldn't come up with anything good about him.

"Gilligan couldn't find a white cue ball in an empty, black room!" Mr. Howell finished for her.

"Really, that boy is impossible," Mrs. Howell agreed.

"But he's the kindest, sweetest one on the island!" Mary Ann retorted. "I'm sure he could do something to get us out!"

"Thanks, Mary Poppins," Ginger countered sarcastically. "We take your kind words of wisdom at heart."

A rustling in the leaves caused the castaways to jump. They looked warily out of the grid to see Skipper, with 222 right behind him. They could tell by the woeful expression on Skipper's face that something horrible had happened.

Quick as a flash, 222 opened the door and Skipper obediently walked inside.

"Skipper, did you let yourself be captured?" Mary Ann asked, shocked. Skipper didn't reply.

"A certain...event occurred that made him give himself up," 222 answered for him. Skipper glared at him with pure hatred, and the spy slowly backed away from the bamboo bars. The acute whining sounded from his pocket knife. He rolled his eyes and turned his back to the castaways as he unfolded the spoon.

"Commandant, I have captured the Skipper," he reported, business like.

"Vhat of Gilligan?" the Commandant asked curiously.

"Uh..." The spy trailed off, thinking of a way to put what had happened earlier into words. "I vas going to stun the Skipper vith the mirror, but Gilligan pushed him out of the vay. He vas knocked unconscious and he fell off of the cliff side."

The Commandant paused. "Are you saying dat you have gotten rid of the head of their mission?"

"Da, Commandant," 222 replied wearily.

"Good!" the Commandant exclaimed. "Now you can complete de mission vithout any more interruptions. Interrogate de prisoners."

"Da, Commandant."

"I mean now."

"_Da_, Commandant!" the spy said, beginning to get annoyed.

"Oh, and by the way, we took avay twelve hours from your mission. You now have eighteen hours left."

"VHAT?!" 222 cried, astonished. "Vhy?"

"Because ve are giving you more of a challenge. So you better do-"

222 slammed the fork piece back into place, disengaging the audio. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, folding the rest of the pocket knife together before slipping it back into his pocket. He returned to the prison door, and looked through the bars at the castaways.

"Okay," he began, "I am going to ask you all a question, and I vant a straight answer. Vhat is your mission here on the island?"

"We have no mission!" Skipper fumed.

"We're shipwrecked," added Mary Ann.

"Yeah!" the Professor and Ginger cried in unison.

222 glared at all of them, attempting to seem commanding. Failing, he asked, "Do you think a few more hours in this cell vill help you to remember?"

"Are you accusing us of lying?!" Mr. Howell asked in disbelief. "A Howell, lie? I'll have you know, Lovey and I are far too rich!"

"To lie?" asked 222, confused for the moment.

"No! How else do you think I made it up the corporate ladder? I mean to be accused!"

"There, there, Thurston," Mrs. Howell said, comforting her distraught husband. "Not everyone can have a Harvard education!"

"I vill return shortly!" 222 exclaimed before spinning around and running into the jungle. Upon seeing this, Skipper's eyes began to water.

"Gilligan used to do the same thing..." he whispered, barely able to speak.

Curious as to what would make Skipper cry, Mary Ann asked, "What's wrong, Skipper?"

"Gilligan used to do that spin and run!" he cried, and he didn't even care when hot tears began streaming down his cheeks.

"Good heavens!" Mr. Howell exclaimed.

"Whatever is wrong, captain?" Mrs. Howell asked.

"Gilligan pushed me out of the way of some weird beam that came from that mirror! He got hit by it, and he fell off the cliff! He's dead!" Skipper snapped, devastated.

Mary Ann broke out into sobs and ran to the back of the cave, while tears ran down Ginger's face. Mrs. Howell began sniffing and she reached into her pocket, pulling out a handkerchief; she dabbed at her eyes, trying to hold back the surge of emotions she was feeling. Mr. Howell looked as if he were about to cry as well. The Professor bowed his head, not meeting anyone's gaze.

"My little buddy is dead," Skipper cried, "and that spy killed him! No more fishing, no more exploring, no more talks at night, no more silly questions and ridiculous answers. Gilligan won't be able to get rescued, because 222 came here. Gilligan risked his life to save me, and I couldn't do anything about it! It's all my fault! Why couldn't it have been me?"

"Oh, don't b-blame yourself, S-Skipper," Mary Ann said between sobs. "It's that stupid agent's fault!"

"He was like a son to me!" Mrs. Howell exclaimed tearfully.

"He was like a son to both of us, dear," Mr. Howell said, putting a comforting arm around his wife's shoulder.

"Gilligan was like the younger brother I never had," Ginger added.

"I, too, feel like I have lost a brother," the Professor agreed solemnly.

Skipper walked over to the bamboo bars and gazed out at the night sky. _Gilligan, please tell me that this is all a horrible, horrible nightmare. I wish you would come back, safe and sound._

_

* * *

_

Gilligan's eyes flickered open, and at first all he saw was the black night sky, filled with white, twinkling dots that seemed to smile down at him. Soon, he became aware of more of his surroundings; the rock face that towered above him, the salty waves lapping hungrily at his feet, but most of all, his body aching all over. He stung where there were small cuts and scrapes. When he tried to sit up, he felt a searing pain in his back that slowly dissipated as he remained in that position. The boy found that, every time he tried to move, his body would tense up, and he wouldn't be able to move again for a few moments.

By the time he was able to move around, the sun had begun to peek up from over the horizon, turning the sky into a brilliant combination of yellow, orange, and blue, reflecting itself in the sapphire waters of the sea.

Gilligan tried to stand up, but he soon regretted it, letting out a yelp of pain as he fell back into the sand. It seemed like an eternity before the pain stopped, and Gilligan attempted to stand again, this time putting less weight on his right leg. It didn't hurt as much, so he began to limp over to the solid cliff wall. Putting his hand on the rock for balance, Gilligan continued along the side.

By now the sun had risen to where the bottom tip barely touched the ocean, and soon Gilligan reached a place where the rock suddenly stopped, turning a corner, giving way to the jungle beyond. Keeping along the side, the first mate limped faster, leaning on the rock for support when needed.

Finally, Gilligan heard voices. His eyes lit up as he raced forward, entering a small clearing. There he saw his friends, all behind a bamboo grid, all with miserable looks on their faces. He walked forward a bit more.

Everyone in the cave still mourned their dearly departed Gilligan. Skipper looked up, his sad expression turning into one of utter shock. The castaways could have jumped for joy when they heard a cheerful voice call out, "Hi, guys!"


	10. Seeing Double

**Seeing Double**

Skipper couldn't believe his eyes- and neither could the rest of the castaways.

"Gilligan, little buddy, is that you?" asked Skipper warily.

"Yeah!" Gilligan exclaimed, smiling. He was covered in dust, though he didn't seem aware of it. He also was blissfully unaware of the cut that ran along his cheek, or the tears in his shirt and pants.

"Oh, Gilligan," Mary Ann cried, beaming. "We thought you were dead!"

"Skipper said you fell off the cliff," Ginger added.

"Wait!" Professor put his arm out to halt the excited castaways. "What if this is a trick, by the spy?"

Everyone paused, looking at one another.

"Really, Professor," Mrs. Howell began, joyful tears beading her eyes, "why would that spy hurt himself just to trick us?" She gestured toward the limp in Gilligan's step as he came closer to the bars.

"That could be a hoax!" Skipper said angrily.

"But, Skipper," Gilligan started, upset, "I woke up on the beach! I only have a few cuts- that I can tell! But I didn't really look, so I don't know what I have and my leg hurts!" His voice got faster as he spoke. "So I havebeenwalking along thecliffandIwaslookingforyouguys and-"

"He's Gilligan, alright," Skipper interrupted; he couldn't have been happier to see his first mate alive.

"Did you say your leg hurt?" Professor asked, concerned, as Mary Ann and Ginger ran to the bamboo grid.

Before he could answer, Mr. Howell said, "Boy, I'm going to have to fine you!"

"For what?"

"For worrying a Howell! The last time I was worried was when the stock market crashed!"

"Thurston, weren't you worried when your polo pony was stuck in a tree?" his wife asked.

"Uh, no," Mr. Howell replied quickly, "that was just a mere ailment."

The boy grinned at the two squabbling Howells. Mary Ann and Ginger suddenly began grabbing at him, attempting to hug him through the prison bars.

"Girls, stop it!" the Professor shouted, causing everyone to stop. "Now," he began, satisfied, "did you say your leg hurts?"

"Yeah, this one here," Gilligan said, putting his hand on his right leg.

"Excuse me..." Professor mumbled, pushing the girls out of the way. Gilligan winced as the Professor put pressure along his leg, and breathed a sigh of relief when he stopped. "It's just a bad sprain," Professor told him. "It should be better in a few days."

"Gee, how do you know that, Professor?"

"I read through my medical book two days ago, when you first saw your double."

Skipper rolled his eyes. "Did you read that chapter on first aid?"

"Actually-"

"Never mind!"

"Uh, Professor," Mary Ann spoke up, "is there anything you can do for Gilligan?"

"Not while I am in here," Professor said, getting up.

"I should think, not, Professor!" Mrs. Howell exclaimed. "Imagine, healing someone's sprained ankle in this perfectly _ghastly_ cave!"

"Barbaric," agreed Mr. Howell.

"Oh, I know how we can get out!" Ginger suddenly shouted. "I was in a movie once, and there were these people trapped in a jail like this one. Two people were free: the warden and the one who the warden thought he had killed. Well, the supposed dead guy showed up and tried to pick the lock, and when he couldn't, he pulled on the door and the prisoners pushed! If we try that-"

"-then maybe we can escape!" Professor finished, excited. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Asks the man who suggested splitting up," Mary Ann teased, making the Professor blush.

"That's a great idea, Ginger!" Gilligan exclaimed, placing his hands on the bamboo bars.

The castaways took their positions; Skipper, Professor, and Mr. Howell at the door, Mrs. Howell, Ginger, and Mary Ann around the men.

"One," they began in unison, "two, three!"

* * *

"Phooey on Commandant," 222 muttered as he walked back to check on his captives. "He takes avay twelve hours- phooey! Someday I valk up to him, take the laser beam and-"

He was cut off by a very loud, "One, two, three!" He quickly raced into the clearing to find Gilligan, alive but not very well, pulling on the door and the captives trying to push it open.

"Stop!" he cried, running over, ignoring the fact Gilligan was there. "Vhat are you trying to do?"

"Escape," Ginger said simply.

"Well," Skipper began, "looks like we won't escape like the characters in that movie you were in, Ginger."

"Oh, they didn't escape! The warden came back as soon as they started."

Everyone gave her looks of exasperation.

"Vell," 222 began, pulling out his pocket knife, "I vill ask you again; vhat is your mission?"

"We don't have a mission," Professor shouted, "we've told you over and over! What will it take for you to believe us?"

Suddenly, 222 took Gilligan in one arm and put the knife at his throat, though without any real intent on killing him. "You tell me your mission, or Gilligan von't see the light of day again," he threatened, and hoped it actually sounded like a threat and not like he was reading from a script.

Mary Ann let out a deafening scream, momentarily stunning both Gilligan and 222, but making the castaways in the cave wince. Gilligan was the first to recover, using what strength he had to throw off the spy, sending him to the ground. The first mate stood there, unsure of what to do, until Skipper yelled, "Run for it, little buddy!"

Gilligan tried to run, but it was very difficult with his sprained leg. Instead of his usual agility, he ended up jogging out into the jungle.

222 sat in shocked silence for a few moments more before jumping to his feet. He looked to where Gilligan had disappeared into the forest and decided it best to give him a head start. He wasn't in any hurry anyway, just that he only had thirteen hours left. He turned to the castaways, a half smile playing on his face.

"That vas clever plan," 222 commented. "Distract the captor so the captive goes free. If I vas in your place, I vould have done the same thing!"

Everyone looked uneasy at the agent, who shook his head as if to snap himself out of something.

"Why aren't you going after the boy?" Mr. Howell asked. When he received glares from those around him, he added, "Not that I want him to, but his plan is just Yale to me!"

"You are right," 222 cried before anyone else could respond to the millionaire. The familiar, but unwanted, whine of 222's pocket knife sounded, followed by the angry voice of the Commandant.

"Do not listen to dem!" he shouted as 222 unfolded the spoon. "You go and find Gilligan, make dem talk!"

222 frowned. "Da, Commandant, but is that not vhat I have been doing?"

There was a long pause. "No, you have not," the Commandant purred, and the castaways, who were listening, stared intently at the object, as if the man were going to spring out of it any second. Suddenly, he roared, "Go out and find Gilligan, now!"

"Commandant-"

"_Now!_"

222 sighed. "Da, Commandant," he answered wearily.

"Once you have gotten de information, complete de final phase of your mission," Commandant ordered sinisterly.

"I do not believe that phase vill be necessary," 222 said definitely, regaining his composure.

"You vill do vhat I tell you to do!" Commandant boomed, causing the spy to jump. "Signing off now."

222 breathed a sigh of relief when he could close the shining pocket knife. He looked wearily at the castaways, before racing off down the path that Gilligan had taken, the key falling from his pocket and onto the sandy ground.

"My word," exclaimed Mr. Howell after he had gone, "that Commandant fellow is more bossy than the Skipper!" The Skipper glared at him, but Mr. Howell didn't take the hint.

"He's worse than the producer of the movie _To Kill Vampires and Werewolves_," Ginger added, "and that's saying a lot!"

"Oh, come now!" Mrs. Howell argued. "He couldn't have been that bad!"

"Hey, that producer was a real wolf!"

"Let's concentrate on getting out of here," the Professor interrupted. "I suggest we..." He trailed off as he spotted the key just a few feet away from the cave. "The key!" he exclaimed, getting on his knees and reaching his arm out through one of the openings.

"Oh," Mary Ann cried, "can you get it, Professor?"

Dejected, Professor sat back up. "Just out of reach," he mumbled.

"Maybe I could reach it," the farm girl volunteered. "That one opening at the bottom is bigger than the others, so maybe I can get halfway through and grab the key!"

"Say, that might work," said Skipper.

"Well, let's try it!" Mr. Howell exclaimed. "This cave doesn't have a single copy of the financial reports!"

* * *

Gilligan leaned against one of the great coconut trees on the island, gazing into the jungle. He had made it pretty far, considering the fact he jogged most of the way before limping to his current spot. In one hand he held a makeshift slingshot and in the other a single rock. He was on the alert, jumping at every noise and aiming the slingshot in that direction, until, of course, he saw it was a bird.

There was a rustle in the leaves, and Gilligan aimed his slingshot toward the bamboo plants, though he didn't realize that the plants would repel any projectiles that came their way. "Alright," he began, "I know you're there! Show yourself!" No reply, so Gilligan warily turned away, slingshot ready to fire.

Suddenly, the brush in front of him parted and he saw his double, crouching in the undergrowth with the mirror in his hand. Gilligan immediately pulled back the slingshot to fire. "You let my friends go, or-"

"Or vhat?" asked 222, standing up.

"Uh..." Gilligan trailed off, realizing that he wasn't much of a threat to a spy with an actual weapon. That's when he noticed a gleam in the corner of his eye; a small pool of water.

"Vill you come villingly, or should a stun you?" 222 asked, gripping the handle of his mirror, hoping the boy would give in.

Instead, Gilligan shook his head. Quick as a flash, he aimed the slingshot and fired the rock at the agent. Missing his original target, the rock crashed into the golden mirror, sending shards of glass flying. Sparks showered the ground as 222 stood gaping at the all that was left of the mirror. The top of it broke off, tumbling to the ground.


	11. Truth

**Truth**

"The mirror!" 222 cried, staring at the remains of what once was a lethal weapon. "How did a _rock_ destroy it?" He looked at Gilligan, a smug expression showing on the first mate's face, and back at the handle; he noticed a small label tucked away inside. In his language, it read "WARNING: This object can break easily if any hard projectiles are shot towards it."

Exasperated, he muttered, "And they do not put that on the outside?"

"What?" Gilligan asked.

"Oh, nothing," he mumbled, half to himself.

"That was the hardest rock in my collection!" the first mate blurted out, grinning. "Now you can't hurt my friends!"

222 dropped the handle to the ground, pulling out his pocket knife.

"Vill you please come vith me?" he asked, almost pleading, but also demanding.

"Why?"

"Because I have to take you back to the cave and interrogate your companions," 222 flipped out the knife attachment, pointing it at Gilligan.

The boy's eyes widened. He took a step forward, but immediately realized that was a mistake as his leg buckled out from under him and he yelped as he hit the ground.

222 stood frozen in place as the loud whine sounded.

Unfolding his pocket knife, he said, "I have found Gilligan."

"I have been monitoring all conversations, I already know dat!" Commandant boomed.

222 began walking. "Commandant," he began, "I th-" He was cut off as Gilligan grabbed onto his ankle, causing him to fall face-first into the puddle. As he tried to get up again, the pocket knife fell out of his hand and into the dirty liquid. Groaning, he fished it out and tried to talk into it. Nothing; it was completely ruined.

"Let me guess," he said to himself, annoyed. "This is not vater proof?" 222 picked himself up off the ground and turned to Gilligan, who still lay on the ground. His eyes flashed briefly with regret as he turned and raced off into the jungle.

"Vhat vere you about to say?" a voice asked.

"Commandant?!" 222 asked in disbelief, stopping and looking for the source.

"Your hat has speaker, in case your pocket knife vas destroyed," Commandant explained. "Vhich it vas!"

"Figures," 222 muttered. Louder, he added, "Vhy is pocket knife not vater proof?"

Seemingly unaware of the agent ever speaking, Commandant continued: "Have you captured Gilligan?"

"Not yet, Commandant," 222 reported, taking off his hat. "I-"

"_Capture Gilligan!_" Commandant roared. "Vhat are you vaiting for?!"

"Da, Commandant," 222 said solemnly. "Vith vhat, though?"

"Your _pocket knife_," Commandant said, giving an exasperated sigh; once again, 222 assumed it was static.

"But it fell in vater!" the spy exclaimed. "How can I use it?"

"You do not need de laser beam or death ray- you can use de attachments," Commandant said, though it was more of a demand than anything else.

"Da, Commandant," 222 said. Before the Commandant could say anything else, he cried, "Signing off!" and pushed the button on the top of the hat, sighing in relief when no one replied. He placed the sailor's cap back on his head, muttering, "Phooey," to himself.

Instead of turning around, he kept walking along the path- the path that led back to the camp.

* * *

"Oh, come on Mary Ann," Ginger encouraged. "You can do it!"

"Just a little bit further!" Professor cried.

Mary Ann had just squeezed her arms through the gap at the bottom of the door. She had her head through, giving her more length. She stretched out, grabbing at the key which lay on the ground just millimeters from her hand.

"You got it!" Skipper shouted. "You got it!"

Mary Ann grinned as her hand hit the key, bringing it towards her. She grabbed it with both hands and yelled, "I have it!"

"Oh!" Mrs. Howell exclaimed. "Thurston, this is so exciting! Can I help pull her in?"

"Sure, Mrs. Howell," Ginger said and she grabbed one of Mary Ann's legs. Mrs. Howell bent down and did the same, both dragging the girl back through.

"Oh, here it is, Professor!" Mary Ann said excitedly as she thrust the rather large key at the scientist.

"Thank you, Mary Ann," he said politely as he took the key from her grasp, walking back over to the door and attempting to get the key into the slot. It took a bit of time, but the Professor finally got the key into the big key hole and turned it.

The castaways waited for the loud click, but nothing happened.

"What's the matter, Professor?" asked Skipper, curious as to why the lock didn't click.

"I don't know," the Professor replied, barely loud enough for the others to hear.

Mr. Howell stepped up. "Maybe if you tinker with it a bit," he said before pushing on the door, and ending up falling flat on his face when the door swung open.

Everyone clamored over to help the millionaire, excited to be free.

"Oh, Thurston," Mrs. Howell scolded. "You shouldn't be lying in the dirt like that! It's very unsanitary."

"You did it, Mr. Howell," Mary Ann congratulated.

"It must have been unlocked!" Skipper exclaimed.

Mr. Howell's expression went blank. "Now you tell me!" he exclaimed, exasperated.

The Professor smiled sheepishly, but soon it turned into a wide, toothy grin. Everyone else was smiling, but their smiles soon faded as they remembered Gilligan and Agent 222.

"We should search the island for the two of them," the Professor immediately said, before anyone could even know what he was talking about. "We'll each take a different direction- and yell if you find anything!" And with that, he was off, leaving the others to scurry around and bump into each other. By the time they were ready to leave, the Professor was already out of sight.

* * *

Gilligan silently stared out at where 222 had disappeared into the foliage, utterly disappointed. Once again, he couldn't chase the Russian spy. He reached out, grabbing the trunk of the palm tree and lifting himself up.

"Now I'll never catch him," he murmured, dejected. He started limping in the direction that 222 had gone; realizing where he was headed, Gilligan quickened his pace, going as fast as he could without over exerting himself.

"I've gotta stop him," he whispered as he moved through the foliage, headed toward the camp.

* * *

Agent 222 parted the bamboo stalks and peered into the deserted camp. Seeing that no one else had arrived at the island, he calmly strode across the clearing, slipping through another small bit of plants before stopping at a hut labeled "Supply Hut".

"This should give me enough information vithout having to force them into saying anything," he mumbled, opening the door and peering inside.

The first thing that came to the agent's attention was a gigantic cabinet sitting in the corner; the label was smudged, so he couldn't read it. As he walked toward it, the words became clearer- "Food Locker". 222 shrugged and opened the door, but instead of the spy wear he'd been anticipating, he found nothing but fruit. He rearranged the pineapples, picked up the grapefruit, and pushed aside the bananas, but the only thing he could find was a pie pan covered by a square checkered cloth.

The spy lightly picked up the cloth, revealing a blueberry pie. One piece was missing; since it was relatively fresh, and no one was dead on the island, 222 assumed that it was safe enough as he carefully picked it up and placed it on the table a few feet behind him. He looked around the hut once more, and it stayed true to its name – all of the items in the hut were just normal supplies. The black stone chalkboard that sat by the door had several drawings of the small island in one corner, and scribbled around them were different numbers.

On the other side of the hut sat a long table covered in neatly organized beakers, test tubes and gourds; under the table was a small wooden box, but there wasn't the slightest advanced piece of equipment in the entire hut.

"This is not anything like other enemy spy hideouts," he exclaimed, not realizing how loud he was. He made his way to the table, studying its contents carefully as he walked. He bent down, picked up the small box and headed back over to the table, attempting to open it. He sat down in the chair of bamboo and palm fronds, tinkering with the top of the box until finally it came open with a _pop!_

222 smiled when he saw what it contained - a book labeled "Dear Diary". Opening it up, he found that the writing was almost illegible. As he was trying to decipher the bad handwriting, his free hand found its way to the blueberry pie. He involuntarily picked up a piece, taking a bite before realizing what he was doing.

Instead of spitting it out, he just swallowed and continued reading the diary. After what seemed like an eternity, 222 finally was able to read the first page. When he did, his eyes widened as he realized that the castaways were telling the truth.


	12. The Storm

**The Storm  
**

Agent 222 sat holding Gilligan's diary in his hand, still trying to comprehend what he had just read. In the past, he had known the enemy to always write about their accomplishments, their mission, their orders. But this one was different; it told of how the S.S. Minnow was beached, how they have been able to survive, and how wonderful the people around him are. Was the Commandant wrong? He flipped back to the first page, attempting to read through the entire book once more.

He was so absorbed in his work, he didn't hear the Commandant's voice until he roared, "LISTEN TO ME!" 222 jumped from his seat, throwing the diary right out the open door.

He groaned as he replied, "Da, Commandant. Could you repeat what you told me, because I did not hear."

"I vill ask you once more: have you captured Gilligan?"

"No, Commandant," the agent began, "and I do not believe that I vant to complete this mission."

"VHAT?!" The Commandant's booming voice filled the hut, making 222 grimace. He heard the Commandant mumbling something in the background–something about an aspirin. "You vill do as you are told, do not start thinking now!"

"I vill do as you are told, Commandant," 222 said. "Before I do, I vould like you to know that I have read Gilligan's diary. I believe that their castaway front is actually true." No reply. There was a faint rumble in the distance–so faint, 222 almost didn't catch it, and he knew the Commandant didn't hear it. "Commandant?" he asked, taking off his hat.

"I knew I should have picked another spy for this mission," the Commandant said, his voice betraying no emotion.

"But, I am only one who looks like Gilligan," 222 exclaimed.

"Yes, but Agent 444 is only one who looks like Skipper!" Commandant countered angrily "And as sad as dat may be, he did not even need surgery! Dis is your last chance vith the government. Or do you like de idea of Siberia?"

222 shuttered. "No, Commandant, I do not," he said after a while. "I also do not like the idea that you are sending me to capture innocent people."

"Dey could be lying!"

"Yes, but–"

"You vill do as you are told! My superiors are very impatient. They believe you can finish de mission in less time, so you have only one hour left. Signing off."

The agent angrily pulled his hat back over his head and turned to the door. He was about to walk out until he heard a rustle in the leaves. Instead he hid beside the door and listened. He could hear the sound of footsteps; they were uneven, so he assumed it was Gilligan.

* * *

There was a small rumble in the distance. Gilligan looked up at the sky, surprised to find it covered in light gray clouds, and darker clouds were rolling in, but that didn't slow his pace as he limped through the jungle. There was a very dim flash of lightning; it seemed like something small, the first mate had been on the island long enough to know what it signaled.

"I have to find him before the storm starts," he muttered, on his face a look of determination. Another quiet rumbling sounded as Gilligan reached the outskirts of camp. Without thinking he pushed aside the bamboo stalks and made his way into camp, his speed unwavering.

He saw the open door of the supply hut and was about to go through when he noticed a small brown book laying in the sand. Momentarily distracted, he reached down to pick it up, smiling as he flipped through the pages of his diary. Then it dawned on him; what was the diary doing on the ground _outside_ of the supply hut?

Gilligan started toward the open door when he heard a hushed voice say, "Don't go there, he's inside!" The boy cocked his head, confused.

"Who's there" he asked, whispering.

"It's me, the Professor!"

In hearing this, the first mate sighed in relief. "Oh good," he said, before realization hit him. "Professor?!" he squeaked, spinning around to see the scientist crouched down in the bushes. "How did you get out? Where are the others?"

"The others are all over the island," the Professor explained, "They are searching for you and the spy."

"Why?" Gilligan asked, genuinely confused. "I'm right here, and that spy is in there!"

The Professor sighed–he couldn't argue with the first mate's logic. "I'll go find them. You stay right here," he ordered before getting up and running through the foliage, looking warily up at the darkening sky as he ran.

"He told me to stay right here, but he didn't say where here," Gilligan murmured, taking his diary over to sit in Mr. Howell's bamboo lounge chair beside the door. "He didn't say anything about being close to the door."

* * *

222 held his breath. When he had peered out the door, he had seen Gilligan sitting right beside it, reading his own diary. _Who does that?!_ he had thought, annoyed that he couldn't leave without being spotted. He paced back and forth, careful about putting himself in anyone's line of sight. A much louder _crash_ made him nearly jump out of his once white shoes; he wasn't used to this kind of weather. Regaining his composure, he peeked out the door once again, this time looking out at the sky; it had taken on a much darker, melancholy look. A swishing noise came from all around as the trees and plants swayed heavily in the wind.

As he glanced at Gilligan, it seemed that the boy hadn't noticed–he was staring intently at the second page of his diary, as if he himself couldn't read his own hand writing. Suddenly Gilligan closed the book and slammed it on the chair beside of him; he folded his arms and sat pouting like a child. 222 cocked his head, wondering why the boy wasn't coming into the supply hut and why he hadn't paid attention to the upcoming storm.

For some reason, 222 felt the need to reveal himself and ask Gilligan, but he didn't need to. Gilligan had began to slowly sit up, carefully putting his feet on the ground and rising, leaning on one side. Before Gilligan turned, 222 quickly backed away from the door, just as a bright flash of light illuminated the hut, followed by a loud rumbling.

A surprised look was on the first mate's face as he walked into the supply hut and found 222 standing a few feet away. It soon turned into a determined smile when he realized he had the spy cornered. "Now ya can't escape!" he exclaimed, blocking the door.

"I have orders from the Commandant to capture you vith my pocket knife," Agent 222 informed the boy, fishing out his ruined knife from his pocket. With much difficulty, he flipped out the knife attachment, but it wasn't just the object's resistance; something was holding the agent back and he couldn't tell what. It was as though the look in Gilligan's eyes was enough to make him stand down.

"Why does your Commandant want you to capture me, then capture my friends who want to capture you, who are looking for you to capture, and you are planning on capturing them who plan to capture you?" Gilligan asked, mirroring the spy's look of confusion at the question.

"I think that it is because he thinks that you are enemy spies," 222 said after a while, "but I must follow orders. Vill you _please_ come vith me?" He took a step closer, holding the knife dangerously close to Gilligan, making the first mate move away.

Just as he did so, the wind picked up, threatening to blow the hut to the ground.

* * *

Mary Ann and Ginger clung on to the Professor's arms for dear life, not willing to let go for fear of loosing their balance in the brute force of the racing wind. Mr. and Mrs. Howell stuck to each other as the Skipper lead them through the foliage.

"We've got to find Gilligan!" Skipper yelled over the roaring winds.

"I know where they are, but I'm afraid we won't be able to make it before this storm starts up!" the Professor called back.

"Heavens," Mr. Howell exclaimed, "Professor, I didn't realize this was as peaceful as tornado alley!"

"Oh, Thurston," Mrs. Howell began, "You know that place isn't peaceful! When we visit, it always ruins my hair!"

"We're going to have to take shelter!" Skipper called to the others. "The cave we were in earlier should be enough!"

No one said another word as the fought against nature's forces. It seemed like an eternity before they were finally in the safety of the cave. It seemed that as soon as they reached the back of the cavern, the wind died down a bit.

"Oh," Mary Ann started. "I feel so sorry for Gilligan, out there in that weather!"

"Yes," Professor agreed. "it would be better if it were raining."

"Oh, Professor," Ginger protested, "how could anything be better with rain? I was in a movie once where it rained all the time, and the scenes were all outside. It completely ruined my hair d–style!"

"It would be better because there would be less of a chance of fire," the Professor said, making everyone feel uneasy.

Suddenly, Mary Ann spoke up. "Ginger, what were you about to say?"

The movie star turned her head. "What do you mean?" she asked innocently.

"You said hair d-"

"No I didn't!"

"But weren't you about to say dy-"

"No I wasn't!" Ginger wouldn't budge. Mary Ann smiled mischievously and Mrs. Howell gave her a knowing look. The men looked at each other as if to ask if they knew what the women were talking about.

A tapping noise sounded outside, and the castaways looked to see streams of rain falling from the clouds. The Skipper stepped forward. "I'm going to go find Gilligan and that agent!" he announced, walking to the entrance.

"Skipper, it's too dangerous!" Professor warned. "It would be wise to wait out the storm!"

"I order you to all stay in the cave, I shall go and get Gilligan," Skipper said, ignoring the Professor. Before anyone could say anything else, the captain had already charged out into the pounding rain.


	13. Broken

**Broken**

Gilligan gripped the side of the hut as the wind tossed it from side to side, watching 222 warily as he, too, held on tight to the wall. Suddenly, the wind died down a little, just as the Commandant boomed, "Your mission is over! Return to the ship!"

222 saw this as a window of escape as he shot past Gilligan like a bullet. Forgetting about his sprained ankle, the first mate followed him, matching his speed exactly as he chased the spy into the dancing jungle. He ignored the fact that every time he put his right foot down, pain shot up his leg. It was just about him catching up to the secret agent and his talking hat.

"Stop!" he called, but his voice was drowned out by a deafening crash. Suddenly, Gilligan was wet; sometime during the painful chase it had begun pouring rain, but that didn't stop him from narrowly dodging trees and trailing Agent 222. There was a blinding flash of light, and Gilligan had to close his eyes. When he opened them, 222 was gone. He kept running, hoping to find where he had gone, only to end up tripping right over the spy.

"Aaah!" the two cried in unison, Gilligan over the pain that shot up his leg, and Agent 222 for being kicked in the stomach. 222 sat breathless for a moment, then got right back up and kept on running. Gilligan stared after him before trying to get up once more, but the pain in his leg was intense; he fell back to the ground beforepicking himself up again and continuing after the spy, once again ignoring the pain that soared up his leg.

Agent 222 ran blindly through the foliage, clutching his stomach where Gilligan had accidentally kicked him when he tripped. The rain that battered his face made it hard for him to see, so he just hoped that he was going in the direction of the lagoon.

Gilligan winced every time his right foot was placed on the ground. Even though he had a disadvantage, he saw to his surprise that he was catching up to the Russian spy. The brush cleared away to reveal a very choppy lagoon. Waves crashed violently on the shore, but oddly there were none toward the center. 222 veered off to the left, continuing along the shore. Gilligan quickly turned to follow, but found it difficult to navigate through the dense foliage that seemed to fight him off every time he tried to move.

222 was almost to his boat when he heard Gilligan's yelp of pain. When he turned around, he saw the boy lying on the ground gasping. He looked nervously from his boat and back to the first mate. Finally he gave in with a groan and raced back over to see what happened.

"Are you alright?" he yelled over the storm.

"My leg..." The words were barely audible over the force of the thunder, but 222 knew what he meant. The pain was intense, and it was almost impossible for Gilligan to keep his eyes open as he watched the agent run into the jungle, coming back a few moments later with a long vine and two pieces of wood.

Agent 222 bent down over Gilligan's leg, placing the wood and vine where he could reach. He expertly rolled up the boy's tattered jeans, looking over his leg. He placed his hands on either side of Gilligan's leg, saying, "This is going to hurt." But Gilligan couldn't hear him. Suddenly, he pushed down on Gilligan's leg, snapping it back into place. The first mate hissed in pain, but soon relaxed as 222 formed a splint out of the two pieces of wood, lashing them on Gilligan's leg with the vine.

"I am vaiting!" boomed the Commandant's voice, for some reason heard clearly above the storm.

"I am not coming!" 222 replied, taking off his soggy hat. To himself, he muttered, "You had to know that this vould be vater proof..."

"Vhat do you mean, of course you are coming!" Commandant said, not wanting the confusion in his voice to show.

"I am going to America," 222 shouted. "Maybe I vill go to Havaii and get my own face back."

"Vell, den I can just find you," Commandant purred. "Or I can intercept your boat vith my submarine."

"Then maybe I vill get different face, but I am not going back!" He picked up the nearest rock and crumpled his hat around it. With all the strength he could muster, he flung it into the lagoon, where it disappeared under the disturbed waters.

Gently, 222 picked Gilligan up and walked into the foliage. Soon he found a relatively sheltered area in the jungle and carefully set Gilligan down in the soft sand before turning back and heading toward his boat.

Gilligan watched as 222 disappeared in the foliage. From where he was laying, the rain barely made it through the dense undergrowth and cluster of trees; the only things that alerted him the storm was still raging was the constant flashing and crashing that occurred around him. Soon, fatigue got the better of him and he felt himself slipping away into merciful unconsciousness.

222 cast a regretful look over his shoulder at the shore in which he was battling the waves to get away from. "They are just so endearing," he mumbled to himself. His dark, dripping hair fell in his face when he tried to navigate out of the lagoon and into the stormy sea–the only disadvantage of not wearing his hat.

He knew it was probably a bad idea to sail in this weather, but he also knew that the Commandant's sensors did not work that well during a storm, and he would probably run around chasing echoes. He smiled at the thought as he finally reached the ocean.

"Maybe I vill get them rescued..." 222 murmured. He looked back one last time, taking in the looks of the perfect island. With the storm blowing the trees, he felt as if the island itself was waving him off on his journey.

* * *

It had been only a few moments since Skipper Jonas Grumby left the cave, and the castaways were already anxious for him to return with Gilligan. Mary Ann wrung her hands nervously; Ginger sat away from everyone, running her fingers through her hair and then pulling them away, looking searchingly at her palms; Mr. and Mrs. Howell sat conversing quietly to one another, obviously disagreeing with each other; the Professor paced back and forth close to the entrance of the cave, getting pounded on by rain on one side and, turning, then getting just as drenched on the other. Every once in a while, he would glance out into the raging storm, watching during the flashes of light to search for the Skipper.

"Oh, I hope he gets back soon," Mary Ann cried, "I hope Gilligan is alright!"

"I hope so, too," agreed Mr. Howell. "He's the only thing without a trust fund that I consider part of the family!"

"Oh, Thurston," Mrs. Howell began, smiling, "how sweet of you! I thought before you said–"

"Never mind what I said, dear."

"Don't worry," Ginger said, "Skipper will find him and they'll both come back safe and sound."

"I suppose you're right, Ginger," Mary Ann said, trying to comfort herself.

After a while, the Professor spoke up. "I somehow feel as if this whole thing is my fault," he said in self-pity.

"Oh, don't say that, Professor!" Ginger argued. "You didn't know that there was an evil spy lurking around the island who just happened to look like Gilligan!"

"But Gilligan _warned _me, and Skipper," the scientist argued, suddenly gaining a determined look on his face. "I'm going after the Skipper; you stay here and don't leave until the storm has subsided!" Without another word to anyone, the Professor ran out into the storm with the speed of a cheetah.

"Wow..." said Ginger in a dreamy voice. "Would I like to have a man do that for me, and not another man!"

* * *

Skipper fought the best he could against the wind, the rain, and the banana leaves that would blow aside to let him pass, but then end up slapping him in the face when he tried. He looked up at the dark sky, and saw an opening in the clouds that let him know the storm would soon cease. Upon looking at that, it seemed as though the wind had begun to slow, making it easier for him to travel through the jungle.

"Skipper..." a faint voice called. The captain stopped and searched around; when he didn't see anything, he continued on. Suddenly, the call became louder. "Skipper!" This time, Skipper turned around to see the Professor coming up toward him.

"Professor," Skipper began angrily, "I ordered you to stay in the cave!"

The Professor finally reached him. He opened him mouth to say something, but ended up gasping for air. He coughed as he breathed in droplets of rain. The Skipper put a hand on his shoulder until he was able to talk. "I came to help find Gilligan. If he's hurt, you don't know the slightest thing about first aid."

"But I could have brought Gilligan back to the cave!" Skipper protested, though he knew he couldn't win.

"You could be too late if you did."

"But..." Skipper trailed off as he realized the Professor was right. He cared for his little buddy too much for Skipper to find Gilligan and it be too late to help him when he took him back across the island. "I suppose you're right, Professor," he said solemnly as he turned and continued through the foliage, the Professor at his tail.

Suddenly, the rain stopped. There was no more thunder or lightning, and the wind had completely stopped.

"It stopped!" Skipper exclaimed, shocked.

"Yes, it would appear so," Professor said. "But, we're not out of the woods yet."

"I should hope not," Skipper said, picking up his pace. "Have you ever seen this many trees in the Sahara?"

The Professor ignored the captain's comment and focused on keeping up with the Skipper. Abruptly, the Skipper stopped, and the Professor bumped into him. _Who am I- Gilligan?!_

_"_What is it, Skipper?" he asked. He looked to where Skipper's eyes were fixed, and his eyes widened. In front of them was a relatively sheltered area, and in the center lay Gilligan. Skipper raced over to his little buddy's side, shouting, "Gilligan, little buddy!"

The Professor followed him, trying to hide the fear that welled up inside him. He relaxed when he saw the gentle rise and fall of the first mate's chest, but his attention was soon turned to Gilligan's right leg.

"Skipper, look," he said, gesturing toward the object wrapped around the boy's leg.

"What is it, Professor?" Skipper asked.

"Don't touch it!" Professor scolded, slapping the Skipper's hand away. He shook his head. "That is a splint," he explained. "Surely you've seen one?"

"Of course!" Skipper defended. "I just haven't seen one like that!"

"Well, it obviously means that his leg has been broken, and somebody set it and created this splint to hold the bones in place."

"But who?" When the Professor didn't reply, a look of confusion crossed the Skipper's face. "It couldn't have been..." His voice trailed off, and he looked at the Professor searchingly.

"Yes, it was the spy."

Skipper sat in stunned silence. After a while, he reached down and gently lifted Gilligan off the ground, standing up and staring out into the jungle. "I wonder why he would do a thing like that, and what happened to him?"

"We may never know the answer to that question, but I suggest you get Gilligan back to camp and I will go tell the others," the Professor suggested.

"That sounds good, Professor."


	14. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

When Gilligan awoke, he saw the green ceiling of his hut. As he turned his head to the side to look at the familiar surroundings, he could hear his friends' voices outside. Then he realized: he wasn't in his hammock. He sat up and found he was in a bamboo cot.

"Whose is this?" he asked. Just as he did, he felt a throbbing pain in his leg. He gasped when he saw his right leg was wrapped in cloth with wooden slabs lashed to it. Soon, he became aware of the many different bandages all over his person. Gilligan blushed when he saw he was wearing a banana leaf skirt instead of his pale jeans, and soon turned red as an apple when he wondered which of his companions had dressed him in it.

Gilligan nearly jumped out of his seat when he heard the Skipper shout, "Hey, everyone! He's awake!" before bursting in through the door, followed by his other companions. They all crowded around him and began bombarding him with questions and sentiments.

"How are you feeling, Gilligan?"

"Dear boy, are you alright?"

"Oh, Gilligan, I'm so glad you're alright!"

"Gilligan, my boy, you almost made me fall off of my wallet when we saw Skipper carrying you!"

"Oh, Gilligan, you're so brave!"

"Gilligan, how is your leg?"

The boy didn't have any time to answer anything before another question came, then another. He didn't feel that he would ever have the chance to talk again until the Professor shouted, "Quiet, all of you! Give Gilligan some air!" Everyone listened and held their tongues, backing up enough to let the Professor walk to Gilligan and check his bandages.

"How is your leg, Gilligan?" the Professor asked.

"It sort of hur_aouuch!_" The Professor quickly removed his hand from Gilligan's leg. "What was that for, Professor?" Gilligan asked, shocked.

"That was to see if the pain medication that I formulated was adequate," the Professor said simply. "Obviously, I need to create a new recipe."

"I'll say!" Gilligan exclaimed, and was rewarded by a chorus of laughter. He shot an odd look about the room, wondering why that was funny. When they stopped, he asked, "Why did you laugh?"

"Because we're happy that you're yourself, little buddy," Skipper explained, putting his hand on Gilligan's shoulder.

"Well, gee, Skipper," Gilligan began, grinning, "that's the first time you said that! Normally you say-"

"Never mind what I say, Gilligan, I don't mean it," Skipper said plainly.

"Gee, thanks Skipper!" The boy grinned.

"Oh, that reminds me!" Mary Ann cried suddenly. "I baked you a coconut cream pie! I'll go get it!"

She began for the door, but was stopped mid-step by Gilligan. "Uh, Mary Ann," he began nervously, "could you please get the radio, too? I-I would like to listen to some music."

"Sure, thing Gilli-"

"Mary Ann, I'll go get the radio," Ginger interrupted, heading out the door.

"I'll go get the pie!" exclaimed the farm girl, quick to follow her companion.

"Well, Mrs. Howell and I will take our leave," Mr. Howell said.

"Why so early, Mr. Howell?" Skipper asked.

"I thought maybe you would like to stay and help keep Gilligan company," Professor added.

"We would, Professor!" Mrs. Howell exclaimed, shocked at any other thought that the others might have. "It's just that Thurston wants to make something that will help poor Gilligan."

"Oh, Lovey," Mr. Howell said, stamping his foot on the ground, "you weren't supposed to say anything!"

"But, Thurston," the rich woman protested, "I didn't tell them it was a–"

"Lovey!"

"There, there, Thurston," Mrs. Howell comforted her husband. "Let's go back to our hut and you can make whatever it is you're making."

"Okay," the millionaire whimpered, allowing himself to be led out of the hut by his wife.

After they had left, Gilligan asked warily, "Why do I have all these bandages?"

"You..." the Skipper trailed off, as though he couldn't find a way to tell the boy something.

"You took a bad fall," Professor contributed.

Gilligan's eyes widened in panic. "Oh no! I took a bad fall?! Howbadisit? HowmuchlongerdoIhave? AmIalreadydead? What–"

"Gilligan, you are not going to die!" Skipper shouted. He pointed a warning finger at Gilligan. "I don't want you to ever say that again!"

"It wasn't a serious fall, it just seemed serious," the Professor added.

"Oh." Gilligan sighed in relief. "Where did I fall from?"

"Uh, the cliffs," the Professor said softly, hoping Gilligan didn't hear.

"Oh, so that's why I woke up down there!" Gilligan exclaimed in realization.

Skipper and Professor looked at each other in confusion; normally Gilligan would have started to panic even more! Their attention was soon drawn to the sound of rock 'n' roll music from outside. Ginger opened the door, the transistor radio in her hands.

"You turned it to 'The Mosquitoes!'" Gilligan cried, bopping his head to the music and mouthing every time the group sang "Yeah, yeah, yeah".

"I knew you liked them," Ginger said with a smile. "Mary Ann does, too."

Just then Mary Ann walked into the hut doing the same thing as Gilligan, only she was careful not to drop the coconut cream pie or wooden bed tray in her hands. She gracefully set the tray on Gilligan's lap, placing the pie in the center.

"Gee, this looks swell Mary Ann!" Gilligan cried, grinning and shaking himself with the music. Everyone smiled at the two dancing with the music.

The Howells came in a few moments later, warily staring at Gilligan and Mary Ann.

"Lovey, I don't think anything can cure those two!" Mr. Howell exclaimed, shocked.

"Thurston, don't you worry," Mrs. Howell said with a smile. "These new age wonder drugs can cure anything!

Ignoring his wife's comment, the rich millionaire handed Gilligan the bamboo 'glass' in his hand, fixing the big blue flower sticking out of the top. "Here you go, my boy!"

"Thanks, Mr. Howell." Gilligan stopped dancing to take the cup. "What is it?"

"It's a–"

"_We interrupt this program for a special news report,_" came to voice of the radio announcer.

"Shh, quiet down," the Professor said, holding his hands out.

"I-" When Gilligan saw the look on the Skipper's face, he shrunk back and decided it best not to speak.

"_A Russian male arrived in Honolulu late last night clinging to a large piece of wood for dear life. He has been trying to get the Navy to search on a deserted island with the survivors of the Minnow, the charter boat that left Honolulu Harbor three years ago and never returned. Unfortunately, his directions could put the island anywhere between Antarctica and Moscow. He claims to know where the island is and that he can lead ships to it, but the Navy states that there is no island and that it is a trap by Russian militia. The man has been taken in for questioning._

_"Now, back to our program of cheery, daytime tunes!_"

"Well, we can assume that the man that they are talking about is Agent 222," the Professor said glumly, turning off the small, box shaped radio.

"How many people will it take for them to realize that we really are here?" Skipper asked angrily.

"Oh, well," Gilligan said solemnly, slapping his free hand down on the table, forgetting about the pie. The tray flipped over, sending the coconut cream pie flying toward Skipper, hitting him smack dab in the face. He sighed in exasperation as the pan hit the ground, along with the crust, leaving his face a white mess of cream and coconut.

"GILLIGAN!" he shouted, reaching for his hat, but then he got a better idea. He slowly reached out and grabbed the glass in Gilligan's hand. He brought it to his mouth, as if he were going to drink it, but as quick as a flash, Skipper turned the cup and splashed its contents on Gilligan's face.

Sputtering, Gilligan asked, "W-what was that for?"

"That was for being you, little buddy!"

* * *

_The End_

Well, this was the final chapter! Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, and I hope you liked this chapter as much as the others. And thank you for the feedback, as well. I'm glad you all liked this story! I was a little wary when I started, this being my first fic, but thanks to the people who read my story I was able to move on to the next chapter and finish! Really, thank you for reading.

Aingeal


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